Pitiful Creature of Darkness
by Lady Gwenevere Smith
Summary: Tom Riddle was engulfed in his own darkness. It nearly swallowed him, until an unlikely ally showed him the light. Meet Gwen Morrison, the light in Tom Riddle's darkness.
1. Here at the End of All Things

I'm once again going through the story and editing it for typos. This is was written before Deathly Hallows, so there are many differences between the two. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Here, at the End of All Things**

_**There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.**_

_**-Louis L'Amour **_

"_Avada Kedavra_!" Voldemort spat at the writhing Harry Potter.

But before the most unforgivable curse of all could reach him, Harry rolled out of the way and sent a deflecting charm toward He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord stumbled back, momentarily stunned. Harry took his opportunity and ran with it. In one swift move, he pointed his wand and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "_Adava Kevara_." Voldemort's snake-like body went rigid, his crimson eyes lost their ferocious light, and his forked tongue lolled lazily in his mouth.

It was finished. The Dark Lord was defeated. Harry slumped to the floor, his emerald eyes overflowing with tears. He, the Boy-Who-Lived had triumphed.

* * *

Gwen Morrison closed the massive history book and stretched luxuriously. With a lazy wave of her wand, she levitated the book and sent it back to its rightful place. It was late afternoon on a chilly autumn day at Hogwarts. While not particularly a bookworm, Gwen had nevertheless spent most of her day at the library readying_ The End of All Things: The Triumph of Harry Potter_ by Hermione Weasley, First–Order of Merlin. Gwen considered herself lucky to be the only American witch attending the school where the world's most famous wizard was headmaster. After all, he had defeated the world's greatest dark wizard, Voldemort, but at a terrible cost. Thousands had died in the duel between Harry and the Dark Lord, including Gwen's parents. 

They had been vacationing in England at the time and got caught in an earthquake. At least that's what she'd been told, but Gwen had always suspected there was more to the story. After all, her parents weren't the type just to take a whirlwind "vacation" in England, especially at such a dangerous time. For the Muggle world had been told that a madman, a lá Hitler, was on the rise. But those in the know knew it was really Voldemort.

Gwen's father had been one of those people. He was a wizard and her mother a witch, although Mommy dearest shunned her natural heritage. She thought witchcraft was nasty and forbade Gwen to use it. Dear 'ole Dad, however, saw no problem with it, and would sneak Gwen off whenever he could to train her. He often told Gwen that she was very special and would one day grow up to be someone very important. He had taught her how to use magic without a wand because he feared his wife's reaction if she found Gwen with a wand.

Then on a blustery summer's day, Gwen's neighbor, Mary Johnson came over. She talked for what seemed like hours in hushed tones to Gwen's parents. Little Winnie, as Gwen was so affectionately called, played silently with her dolls, wondering what the grown ups were doing. Maybe they were planning her a swimming party at Miss Mary's house. Winnie loved swimming parties.

While no one was looking, Winnie transfigured her dolls to her liking. She gave the blond one's brown hair, like her own, and the brunette ones pink hair, her favorite color. Then, if she concentrated really hard, Winnie made the dolls move on their own, although their movements were very jerky and awkward.

Finally, the adults finished their conversation and Miss Mary left after giving Winnie a hug and some chocolates. Gwen smiled inwardly at the memory; it was still as clear as though it had happened just yesterday. Sadly, though, that was ten years ago…ten years ago was the last time Gwen had seen her parents, felt their warm embraces, and heard their voices. But she never stopped feeling their love. To this day, Gwen remembered the last things her parents ever said to her.

"Winnie, darling, Mommy and I are going to take a vacation to England. We're going to leave you with Miss Mary. Won't that be fun?" her father had said with a suspiciously large smile.

"England! Isn't that where King Arthur lives?" Winnie had squealed. "I want to see King Arthur!"

Dad laughed.

"Yes, we're going to see King Arthur, and we promise to bring you back a beautiful dress from Queen Guinevere herself. You know your name comes from hers. You're a princess," he said while sweeping Winnie up in his arms. "I love you so much," he said with what sounded like a milk bubble in his throat.

"I love you too, Daddy," Winnie cooed.

Just then, Lana Wood called Gwen's name, snapping the brunette of her reverie.

"Gwen! Have you been here all day? Why weren't you out playing Quidditch with us?"

Lana was truly her father's child; Quidditch was life. But Gwen was American and Quidditch never caught on there like the rest of the Wizarding World.

"Oh, Lana," Gwen drawled in her Texan accent. "You know how un-athletic I am. I couldn't fly if an Austrian Ridge-Back was after me. Besides, I've been catching up on my history," Gwen said with a wry smile.

Lana rolled her eyes and muttered something about Gwen and her obsessive love for all things historical.

"Come on, we've got ten minutes to get prime seats in the Great Hall for dinner," she said, grabbing Gwen's robes and hauled the protesting Gryffindor down the rows of books.

Once they reached the Great Hall, both girls scampered to their seats, where other sixth year students soon joined them. Gwen talked reservedly with the others, all the while marveling at the Great Hall. The awe never wore off for Gwen; she loved the massive room with its ever-changing ceiling. In fact, she loved everything about Hogwarts, well, everything except Potions. For such an excellent cook, it was puzzling to Gwen why she wasn't better at Potions. She hated it almost as much as she had hated math back when she was in Muggle high school, and that was saying something.

The Hall was completely filled by now, and the faculty was filing to their seats. First came sweet Professor Neville Longbottom of Herbology and head of Hufflepuff, and then loony Professor Luna Lovegood of Divination and head of Ravenclaw. After that came Gwen's favorite, Professor Ginny Potter of Transfiguration and head of Gryffindor, her brother Professor Ron Weasley of Potions, Professor Draco Malfoy of Defense Against the Dark Arts and head of Slytherin, and last, but certainly not least, Mr. Harry Potter himself, the youngest headmaster of Hogwarts ever at the age of thirty-seven.

Gwen was very fond of the headmaster; he had endured so much pain and seen so much destruction, yet he was so full of hope and life. She especially liked how his prematurely gray hair set off his twinkling emerald eyes—they always seemed to be laughing mischievously. He smiled fondly at his ruby-haired wife and then called for attention. The students quietly shuffled and turned their attention to the Headmaster.

"I hope you all enjoyed your Saturday and didn't get into too much trouble," Harry said with a sly smile, his eyes drifting to two second year Hufflepuffs.

They had discovered the Weasley's old enchanted car, and had gone for, shall we say, a joy ride that landed them in the middle of the lake. Needless to say, the giant squid was none too happy about it, and it had taken Charlie Weasley, professor of Care of Magical Creatures, an hour to convince the squid to release the boys. Gwen snickered with the rest of the kids while the boys blushed furiously.

"Anyway, I would like to make a few announcements," continued Headmaster Harry. "Please help me welcome our newest student, Eva Green. She is a first-year student and was too sick to attend until now. Please make her a part of our family. Eva, you may come in and be sorted."

With that, the massive doors to the Hall opened and a small, mousy looking girl crept in. She stopped and looked around, bewildered. Someone coughed for Eva to go to the front where Mrs. Potter was waiting, a sympathetic smile on her face. Ginny Potter was standing beside a rickety old stool and a raggedy, filthy wizard hat— the Sorting Hat. Gwen thought back to when she had been sorted only a month ago. To say that she was nervous would be like saying Voldemort had anger issues.

She had wondered what house she'd be in; she was smart, but nothing outstanding, so Ravenclaw was out of the question. She was friendly and helpful, but only to those she deemed worthy of her attention, so that excluded Hufflepuff. Gwen generally thought of people as incompetent and liars; rarely did anyone live up to her expectations, Harry Potter being the exception, of course. One would think that with her slightly dark outlook (she preferred to think of it as "realistic") that she would fit right in with Slytherin, but Gwen didn't have any delusions of grandeur or obsession with the Dark Arts, so that only left Gryffindor.

When it came time for Gwen to be sorted, she had barely made it up the seemingly endless isle when the Sorting Hat screamed for her to be in Gryffindor. This, of course peaked the interest of all those gathered in the Hall, particularly Headmaster Harry and Professor Malfoy; the last time the Sorting Hat hadn't needed to be on someone's head in order to place them was over seventy years ago…

Gwen's train of thought was interrupted for the second time that day; the Sorting Hat had placed little Eva Green in Hufflepuff. Gwen clapped politely with the rest of the students.

"And now, for my big announcement," Harry stated, thus drawing the antsy students' attention back to him. " As you know, I'm very emphatic that all of you learn everything possible to equip you for a successful life in the Wizarding World. This, of course, must include defending yourself when necessary. Now, I know that, ahem, _Professor_ Malfoy—" Harry said the word like he was choking "—has taught you well, but he and I were discussing how important it would be to put his, ahem, _teaching_—" more choking from the Headmaster, "—to good use. That is why he and I will be sponsoring a dueling club for all ages. Won't we, _Professor_?"

Malfoy gave a curt nod of his flaxen head, as if he were in a neck brace and it hurt him to move.

The children began to buzz with excitement. _Harry Potter _wouldteach _them _to duel? What an honor! Gwen smiled with anticipation and glanced over at Lana to gauge her reaction. Instead of looking excited, Lana looked positively sick. Gwen wondered what was wrong, but decided to wait until after dinner to question her friend.

The meal, of course, was a feast, yet Gwen found it hard to eat. She was still getting used to English food, and although it wasn't as horrific as she had heard, it still wasn't her cup of tea, so to speak. She picked at her roast chicken as thoughts of the dueling club danced in her head. Dueling was one of the last things her father was able to teach her before his untimely death, although she'd never been able to go much farther than the expelling charm. Yet, with her proclivity for Transfiguration and her aggressive nature, she was quite sure that she'd enjoy the club.

When dinner was finished, Gwen followed the others up to Gryffindor tower, but was stopped short by Professor Ginny Potter.

"Miss Morrison, my husband and I would like to have a word with you. Please follow me."

Ginny led Gwen to Harry's office, stopping momentarily to whisper the password "Prongs" to the sentinel troll statues. Gwen gawked at the strange room she soon found herself in; it was filled with strange gadgets and portraits of former headmasters. As Gwen passed the final portrait of an Albus Dumbledore, the kindly old man smiled at her and tipped his hat. Gwen returned the smile and then turned to face Headmaster Potter, who was seated at his desk, when she noticed a magnificent scarlet bird perched on his chair.

Harry must have noticed her shocked expression, and said, "Yes, that is a real Phoenix, and his name is Fawkes."

The bird ruffled its wings and the bowed its graceful head. Gwen just stared.

Ginny cleared her throat and spoke up, "Gwen, honey, have a seat. The reason we asked to talk to you is that we were wondering how you were making the transition to Hogwarts. You seem to be doing well, but my brother, Professor Weasley, tells me that you are having trouble in Potions. Is this true?"

Gwen played with her robes nervously and drummed her fingers on her leg.

"Ah, yes, well, its just a hard class for me… I just don't seem to have the… ability to grasp the fine art of Potions. But-but it isn't because Professor Weasley isn't a good teacher, it's just that…well, I just don't get it."

Gwen added that last part because she didn't want to be rude about Ron in front of his sister and best friend.

Harry nodded and said "Oh, we both Ron couldn't find his bum with both hands; you don't have to patronize me."

This earned a slap on the back from Ginny.

"But, other than Potions, is everything else going alright?" Harry asked kindly.

Gwen nodded, but kept her eyes from Harry. She didn't want to tell him just yet her unconfirmed suspicions about Professor Malfoy. After all, he'd never been anything but professional to her. Yet, sometimes Gwen thought she could feel him staring at her, but when she'd look up, he'd be stalking down the rows of desks, glaring in completely the opposite direction. Then again, she was just probably being paranoid after "the incident" as she referred to it…but Gwen quickly pushed those dark thoughts aside. She was safe now; she was in the Wizarding World and at Hogwarts. She looked up to see Harry staring at her thoughtfully, he knew that she wasn't telling him something, but he had learned long ago that when someone doesn't want to talk, the best thing is to leave them along until they feel like sharing.

"Well, if you need anything, just let us know. Ginny, will you take Gwen back to the tower?"

As Gwen got up to leave, Fawkes flew over her head and rested on a beautifully engraved sword. He gave a friendly squawk, as though to show Gwen the treasure he'd discovered. Gwen walked over to the Phoenix, petted it gently, and then looked at the saber, intrigued. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen; the blade was magnificently carved steel, and the hilt had a ruby the size of Fawkes's eye imbedded in it. Gwen felt compelled to pick it up, as though the sword were calling to her. But she refrained, because she didn't want to damage such a lovely work of art. She patted Fawkes once more and then turned to face Ginny, only to receive the very interested stares of Harry, his bride, and all of the portraits, particularly the last one.

"I see you've discovered the sword of Gryffindor," spoke Dumbledore's portrait. "Very beautiful, isn't it?"

Gwen nodded hesitantly and said quietly, "Yes, it is."

She looked over to where Ginny and Harry were exchanging piqued expressions. Ginny then nodded to Harry and Dumbledore, and proceeded to lead Gwen back to her common room.

Once inside, Gwen looked for Lana, and seeing that she was nowhere to be found, ascended the stairs to the sixth year girls' bedchambers. There she found Lana chatting animatedly with Anna Cole, prefect for Gryffindor. It amazed Gwen how Lana and Anna ever became to be friends. Lana was boisterous and athletic, and an average student. Ana was a pretentious nerd and had about as much personality as tapioca pudding, and was as sickeningly sweet as vanilla coated sugar. She loved everybody and thought everything was wonderful all the time.

_Barf_. Gwen thought to herself. _How can you like everybody?_

Lana, by now, was in full diva mode as she related the story of her Quidditch match against Slytherin last year.

"And then he flew straight at me! But I managed to spin out of the way, grab the snitch, and win the game!" Lana jumped into the air, pumping her fist.

"Oh, Lana, I was so scared for you! How dangerous! I could never play against those nasty Slytherins. You're so brave!" Anna squealed.

Gwen just rolled her eyes and stepped from the shadowy doorway.

"And, that was how Lana Wood, sixth-year student, won the House Cup and ensured world peace forever and ever. Amen."

Gwen flopped down on her bed, as Anna gave her a withering look and said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Why, Gwen, I didn't notice you there! Where have you been?" the Audrey Hepburn wannabe asked.

Gwen raised one eyebrow, and replied with a wiry smile, "Oh, you know, sneaking into the library and reading books about Dark Magic in the Restricted Section, snogging random boys and causing general mayhem. You know, the usual."

Anna gaped, and then replied in her must supercilious voice, "Why, Gwen, how awful! I must say that I will have to report you to Professor Potter for this!"

Gwen's grass green eyes flashed with malicious glee.

"You go ahead and do that Anna, _darlin'. _After all, I wouldn't want you to neglect your _important_ prefect duties."

Lana, sensing the tension, quickly changed the subject.

"So Gwen, are you going out for the dueling team? I don't think I'll have time, what with Quidditch and all."

Gwen was slightly putout that she couldn't continue goading Anna, but she answered, "Yeah, I'm going to. I've always been interested in dueling, and who better to learn from than Harry?"

Anna gasped, "You can't call him that! He's the headmaster! Not to mention the greatest wizard ever; I'm appalled Gwen, that you would be so flippant with the respect that he deserves!"

Gwen chose to ignore this outburst and continued her conversation with Lana.

"I noticed you looked really pale when, ahem, _Headmaster Potter_—" Gwen glared at Anna, "announced the dueling club. What's wrong?"

Lana laughed nervously and waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, that was nothing. I'm just scared of getting up in front of everyone and showing my lack of skills. And who wants to actually spend more time with Professor Malfoy?"

"Oh, Lana, you'd be so much better if you actually studied more, instead of playing Quidditch all the time!" Anna huffed.

Gwen had to resists the urge to roll her eyes excessively and burst into peals of laughter; instead she said sarcastically, "Why, Anna, _darling, _that's what we have _you_ for, to study so the rest of us can just copy off of you."

Anna swelled like she was a snail and Gwen had just put salt on her (not that Gwen hadn't thought of doing that already, but she didn't think Harry would approve) and stuttered incoherently. Gwen flashed a rakish smile and then declared that she was tired and proceeded to the bathroom to undress.

Later on that night, when everyone else was supposed to be asleep, Gwen sat up, gazing out the window across the moonlight lake. Hogwarts was aglow in ethereal beauty, but Gwen couldn't help feeling alone. It was times like this when she wished her family were around. Gwen sighed; it was no use wishing for things she couldn't have. It's not like she could undo the past…right?


	2. The Sword And The Phoenix

Chapter Two

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**The Sword and the Phoenix **

_**Destiny is carried out, fate is suffered.**_

_**-J. Christopher Herold**_

Gwen was not a morning person. She would stumble around in a half-blind fog, grabbing at her clothes and ignoring anyone who dared speak to her. Anna Cole, of course, was cheerful and chipper; the little twit fluttered about like it was Christmas morning and she was about to open her presents.

"Good morning everyone! Time to get up and face the day!" she sang.

Gwen grunted and headed for to bathroom to attempt to dress in peace.

"Gwen, Gwen, can we talk for a moment?" Anna asked in her annoying singsong voice.

Gwen just stared at her, her toothbrush hanging in her mouth and toothpaste dripping down her chin.

"Oh, good! I feel like we got off on a bad note last night; I realize that you were just joking about sneaking around and doing those terrible things, and I won't tell Professor Potter about you. You're so funny!" Anna slapped Gwen hard on the back, causing her to choke on her toothbrush.

Gwen gagged and spit up her toothpaste and then glared daggers at Anna.

"We're still friends, right?" Anna cooed in a tone so saccharinely sweet Willy Wonka would throw up.

Gwen just made a growling noise in the back of her throat, and then turned back to the mirror to floss her teeth.

"Oh, goody, I'm so glad!" Anna chirped, and with that, she mercifully bounced out of the room to go torture— er— _talk_, to someone else.

Gwen's classes passed without any upheaval, however, when it came time for dinner, the Great Hall was abuzz with the nervous excitement of anticipation. Most of the first years were eagerly practicing the meager spells that they knew, while the older students bragged about their vast knowledge of magic and how _they_ should be the first to duel. Finally, after what seemed like ages, dinner was over and Harry waved the house tables out of the way, except for the Gryffindor table. He then stood up on one end and Professor Malfoy stood at the other.

"Bring back memories, _Headmaster _Potter?" Malfoy asked with his customary sneer.

Both men faced each other, held their up their wands, and bowed. Not surprisingly, Malfoy struck first with some obscure (and probably dark) curse. Harry easily summoned a Patronus-like shield that blocked the curse.

"And now, let's have some volunteers. Who wants to go first?" Harry asked.

Immediately all the first year boys raised their hands. Harry chose one rather pudgy looking Hufflepuff, while Malfoy chose a typically snooty Slytherin girl. The girl, instead of bowing, swiftly kicked the boy in shins and then sent a Jelly-Legs curse at him. But before he could fall on his face, Harry swiftly conjured a large cushion and levitated it and the boy to the hospital wing.

After several groups of people had gone, Gwen was starting to get antsy. When was she actually going to _learn _something, instead of watch silly first and second year students throw petty spells at each other? All of the sudden, Gwen felt very cold, and turned to find the presence of Professor Malfoy standing behind her.

"Care to go next, Miss Morrison?" he drawled.

Gwen nodded her head, green eyes refusing to meet his steely gray ones.

When it came time for her to go, Gwen took a large breath and stepped up onto the table. On the other end, much to her amusement was none other than Anna Cole. Anna smiled falsely, as she was overly confident in her _vastly superior knowledge_. Gwen let Anna strike first to give her a false sense of security. She let Anna expel her wand; but that was of little consequence, for Gwen preferred to practice magic with out her wand.

"Ah ha! I won! Gwen, sweetie, you really should be more observant! Why, if I was a dark wizard, I could have killed you!" Anna trilled.

Gwen shrugged and then said, "I suppose you're right Anna. I concede that I should be more observant, after all—" she casually flicked her eyes to one of the candelabras and slowly started to levitated it— "I wouldn't want to be caught by _surprise_, now would I?" and with that Gwen sent the candelabra hurtling through the air, and just before it could reach Anna, Gwen transfigured it into a pillow that heartily smacked Anna across the face.

She landed with a resounding thud on her bottom, causing all the little kids to snicker. Anna stared wide-eyed at Gwen, who had restored the candelabra to its original state and transferred it to its rightful place.

Headmaster Potter took this opportunity to congratulate the students on a job well done, and quickly dismissed them to their common rooms. He stated that the dueling would meet every night; first year students were on Mondays, second years on Tuesdays, and so on and so forth.

During the third session of dueling class, Gwen found herself, much to her chagrin, facing Professor Malfoy. They bowed customarily, and Gwen sent the stupefying curse at the professor, which he deflected with yet another random curse that she'd never heard of. Gwen started to get nervous after a few minutes of her curses and charms bouncing harmlessly off the Professor. And to make things worse, he kept trying to "encourage" her, but it sounded more like taunting.

"Really, Miss Morrison, if that's all you're going to do, I'm quite afraid that won't be good enough. I see that your lack of _proper_ education back in America really has been detrimental. Perhaps you should spend come in for tutorials?" he drawled in his self-righteous way.

Gwen knew he was trying to goad her into making a mistake, but she'd be dammed if she gave him the pleasure of seeing her fail. She raised her wand to strike, but Professor Malfoy waved his wand in a complicated manner, and Gwen, sensing that something _really_ bad was about to happen, once again transfigured one of the candelabras, but this time into a knightly looking shield. Malfoy's curse or whatever it was shattered the shield, and one of the pieces flew back and hit Gwen in the eye. She doubled over in pain, all the while muttering nasty comments about Professor Malfoy and his mother.

"That is it! That is _IT_!" she shouted louder than she intended.

Gwen was completely enraged, but before she could do anything, she felt an indescribable wave of pain shake her body. It was like her bones were being ground and her skin set on fire. Her dark hair began to turn a pale shade of white; her eyes changed from a bright grass green to a cold, steely gray. The pain continued for what seemed like ages, but it was less than five seconds. Then, as soon as it came, it subsided. The Great Hall was deathly silent as Gwen slowly stood up. Only it wasn't Gwen standing before the students, but rather, an exact replica of Professor Malfoy's father. Gwen stared in horror at her body, and then looked at the professor, incensed.

"What have you done to me?" she said in not her voice, but that of Lucius.

She looked petrified.

"What's happened to me?"

By now Harry had made his way through the crowd to Gwen's side. He looked very worried, and glanced angrily at Malfoy the younger.

"Gwen, come with me. Class is dismissed. Go back to you common rooms," he ordered the gaping students.

Reluctantly, they filed out of the Hall, whispering to each other things like, "Did you see that? She just turned into him!"

After they all had left, Harry looked to Professor Malfoy.

"Well? Care to explain yourself?" he asked expectantly.

Professor Malfoy wore a shocked expression on his face, but quickly regained his composure.

"I assure you, _Headmaster_ that I have no idea what just happened. Why would I transfigure a student into another person, which is illegal, must less into my _father_—_"_ he said the word with pure loathing, tainted with a little fear— "What good would it do me?" he responded in his sycophantic voice.

Harry glared back at him, for Malfoy wasn't lying.

Harry then turned to Gwen, and asked in a rather soothing voice, "What happened? Describe in detail all that you remember."

Gwen drew in a shaky breath and began, "Well, all I remember is getting really angry when part of the shield hit my eye. I…I wanted to retaliate against the professor…I wanted to make him pay for hurting me by hurting him more…and then this wave of pain hit me. I felt like I'd been run over by a bus, and bitten by thousands of fire ants. And then it just stopped. I stood up and I ended up like this."

Harry nodded his head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Is that all?" he asked.

Gwen nodded yes.

"I see," he answered, lost in thought.

All three of them stood there in strained silence, Gwen ashamedly stared at the floor, Professor Malfoy lazily twirled his wand, and Harry paced furiously, entranced in his own thoughts. He stopped and turned to the other two.

"Follow me," he said simply.

Harry led Gwen and Professor Malfoy up to the Headmaster's office. There he motioned for them to sit down, and he began to converse in hurriedly hushed tones with Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait. Harry stopped talking him abruptly and then turned to Gwen.

"Try and envision yourself as you really are… how your natural appearance is. Try and transfigure yourself into your normal state…" Harry trailed off hesitantly.

Gwen thought sarcastically, _I never would have thought of that before! Golly gee whiz, what a great idea!_

Dumbledore, who seemed to know what she was thinking, found this quite funny, for he let out a wheezy laugh.

"Just try it my dear," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gwen made a mental note not to think around Dumbledore, for he obviously was a skilled Legillmist or however you say it. Gwen sighed heavily, and the closed her eyes, forming a clear picture of herself in her mind's eye. As she was concentrating on transfiguring herself, Fawkes swooped over her head. He flew to the sword that she had examined earlier, and picked it up in his talons. He swooped over her again, turned in mid-flight and flew over her head a final time, dropping the sword on her head. It nicked her ear slightly. Gwen winched in pain.

"Stupid bird," she muttered.

But Fawkes ignored the hurtful comment, and perched on her shoulder. He started to nip at the cut, causing Gwen to cry out in pain and attempt to remove the troublesome phoenix from her head. Fawkes held on for a bit longer, and then cried, his tears sealing the wound. He then began to fly around Gwen's head in a circular motion, singing in his beautifully weird voice.

"Envision yourself again Miss Morrison; close your eyes and block out everything! Transfigure yourself!" Dumbledore urged.

"That's easy for you to say, you don't have a screaming bird swirling over your head!" Gwen replied angrily.

This had gone on far too long for her taste, but what choice did she have but do obey? So she closed her eyes, blocking out everything around her. She focused on an image of herself, willing her body to return to its usual state. The roaring pain hit her once again, yet instead of crumbling to the floor, Gwen stood stock still, as though a puppet held up by invisible strings. The pain grew in intensity and just when she thought she would pass out, Gwen's eyes flew open, restored to their rightful green. She blinked incredulously; feeling herself to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

"I'm a girl again! Hallelujah, praise the Lord!" Gwen danced around triumphantly, making quite a scene.

As she twirled around to come to an undignified stop, Gwen noticed the strange looks on Professor Malfoy and Harry's faces.

"What?" she asked, suddenly afraid and embarassed.

She glanced over at Dumbledore's portrait; the old man was beaming at her. Ginny Potter, who had walked into the room unbeknownst to Gwen, said, "Gwen, look at yourself in the mirror."


	3. Heir Apparent

Chapter Three

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Heir Apparent**

_**All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.**_

_**-J.R.R. Tolkien **_

Gwen turned, her feet heavy with dread, to face her reflection. She didn't think there was anything wrong with her, but she couldn't be sure. Did she have an extra arm growing out of her head?

Fortunately, Gwen didn't have any extra appendages. She did, however, have on the most extravagant and beautiful robes she had ever seen…certainly not the robes of an American orphan foreign-exchange student. They were a deep scarlet with swirling gold symbols that cascaded from the neck down the edge of the robe to the hemline. On the right breast pocket, was a large, alarmingly realistic looking lion. And most astonishing of all, was that in her left hand was the sword of Gryffindor. Gwen, who had never held a blade in her life, felt like she had always owned it and that the saber was simply an extension of her being.

The room was deadly quiet; no one knew what to say. Dumbledor's portrait was the first to speak.

"Welcome, heiress of Gryffendor. It is an honor to finally have you in our presence."

Fawkes, who had been serenely preening himself, extended his wings to their full length and bowed gracefully. He then flew to Gwen and perched gently on her shoulder.

"You see"— Dumbledore began in a respectful voice— "Fawkes was the first to alert us to your heritage. For you see, he was actually Gordic Gryffindor's pet; I happened to find him once on one of my many excursions. Fawkes is the keeper of Gryffindor's sword; that is why he showed it to you the first time you were here. Fawkes can only give the sword to Gryffindor's heir, or anyone who possesses all the qualities of Gryffindor. So far, in all the long years of Hogwarts' existence, there have only been two people whom Fawkes has given the sword— first, Mr. Potter when he was in great need, and now you. It is yours to keep, as is Fawkes."

Gwen felt like she'd just been told that she'd won the lottery, except that she didn't gamble, and the facts that Hogwarts didn't have a lottery, but you get the idea.

"I think I need to sit down," Gwen said with a woozy expression on her face.

She flopped into the chair that Ginny had so thoughtfully conjured.

S-so now what?" Gwen asked once the room had stopped spinning. "Do I get some fabulous carriage pulled by mice that have been transfigured into horses, kiss the sexy prince and live happily ever after?"

Dumbledore laughed.

"I see that your sly humor never fails you. No, unfortunately, there are no pumpkin carriages in your future, although we could ask the Divination professor just to make sure. Your future is far greater than that. For your future is the past, and the past your future."

Gwen just stared at him dumbly.

"What?" she asked, confused.

Dumbledore replied, "Perhaps I should start at the beginning, then if you still have any questions, you may ask them, yes?"

Gwen nodded.

"Very good. As you know, over a thousand years ago, the four greatest wizards founded Hogwarts. They were all good friends, especially Salazar Slytherin and Gordic Gryffindor. But the two friends disagreed on one vital thing: how to teach the Dark Arts. Slytherin thought it best to learn Dark Magic and thereby be able to defend against it; after all, we fear what we do not understand. Gryffindor, however, was wary of the Dark Arts and the temptations it offered; he thought few people would be able to resist the temptation. Slytherin became more and more ensnared by his growing obsession with Dark Magic, becoming suspicious of all those around him. When Gryffindor tried to intervene, Slytherin broke off their friendship, thereby causing a great rift in the Wizarding World. Slytherin, convinced that his beliefs and his alone were correct, constructed the Chamber of Secrets and left the basilisk in it, so that when the time was right, his heir would release it and purify Hogwarts of those with 'impure blood.' That is why Gryffindor left his sword, so that his heir could kill the basilisk and thereby prevent many deaths."

Gwen nodded, silently digesting the information, but a few things troubled her.

"I understand what you are saying, Professor Dumbledore, but didn't Har—er, _Headmaster_ Potter kill the basilisk in his second year? Doesn't that make him heir of Gryffindor, not me?"

Dumbledore answered, "For a while, I thought he might be, but he failed to fulfill most of the requirements of the ancient prophesy about Gryffindor's heir."

"Prophesy?" Gwen asked, confused. "What prophesy?"

"It is said," replied Dumbledore, " that when Slytherin and Gryffindor dissolved their friendship, there was a great division in the Wizarding World. The two greatest wizards of the age were at odds, and only if their heirs united and ended the house feuds, could the Wizarding World be whole again."

"But wasn't the heir of Slytherin Voldemort? And wasn't there a prophesy that either he or Headmaster Potter must die; both couldn't exist at the same time? Is that why you knew that Headmaster Potter wasn't heir of Gryffindor?" Gwen asked, her mind slowly groping its way through the complex issues.

"Yes, that and the fact that Harry didn't fulfill the other requirements of the prophesy. The Sorting Hat would easily identify the heir of Gryffindor, hence it being able to sort you, Miss Morrison, without even touching you, since the Sorting Hat at one time belonged to Gryffindor. The other requirement for Gryffindor's heir was that they must have an unusual ability for Transfiguration, even going so far as to take on the appearance of another human without Polyjuice Potion. Harry, although gifted in many areas, did not even show an inclination of this ability. You, however, Miss Morrison, meet all the requirements," Dumbledore finished reverently. "So do you have any questions?"

"You said that Fawkes and the Sorting Hat gave me away, right? So why were you—" Gwen nodded to Harry and Professor Malfoy—"surprised at me transforming into Professor Malfoy's father?" Gwen asked.

Harry spoke for the first time in quite a while, saying, "That's because you've never seen Professor Malfoy's father; he's been dead for ten years. I thought that Professor Malfoy's curse might have interfered with your sudden burst of Transfiguration… but now I realize that you were subconsciously tapping into his fears… remember when you said you wanted to make him pay for hurting you? That's why you changed into his father."

Gwen sat still for several minutes, absorbing this information. So she was heiress of Gryffindor, huh? She was to help bring balance to the Force— so to speak— with the help of some snotty-nosed Slytherin. But who was heir of Slytherin, now that the Dark Lord was dead? Surely Voldemort didn't have any children! Gwen shuddered at the thought.

"So how do I unite with the heir of Slytherin when he's dead? And what exactly do you mean my unite?" Gwen asked, carefully choosing her words.

"I can answer that," spoke Malfoy from his dark corner of the room. "Prior to your arrival at Hogwarts, Professor Lovegood made a new prophesy. She said '_**Behold! The heiress cometh from the west; she will travel across sand and time to right the wrongs of the past. What was dead shall live again; a house divided shall be united. Only then can total darkness be prevented**_' So you see, Miss Morrison, you must go back in time to that of Tom Riddle…" he trailed off, looking at Professor Dumbledore to finish the thought.

"My dear Gwen," Dumbledore began, his manor very grave, " you must befriend him. You are both orphans with a rich heritage; your fates are intertwined. You can help him not be Voldemort, thereby preventing countless deaths and suffering. You will be able to understand him more than anyone else. Listen to him; show him that power isn't everything. And if at all possible… love him."

Gwen wanted to retch, but instead he leapt up from her seat, enraged.

"So let me get this straight," she roared, "you want me to just go back in time and fall in love with a homicidal maniac, just like that?" she snapped her fingers. "And when, pray tell, when were you planning on sending me back? To when he was a child, so that I could prevent the emotional scars before they formed? Or when he's here at Hogwarts, when the little Neo-Nazi gets his ideas for world domination! And love, you've _got_ to be _kidding_ me! People like Voldemort do _not_ change; they are incapable of love or any other pleasant emotion. Its not like I can just walk up to him and say, 'Hey Tommy boy, this whole world domination thing? Yeah. Really bad idea. Why don't you raise fuzzy kittens instead?' I'm sure he'll listen and go 'You know, you're absolutely right!' And then he'll quit everything and be a good little boy."

"And then, if, by some unknown reason, I am able to change him, what then? His not becoming the most evil wizard ever will so drastically alter the world, how do you know what will happen? Will Headmaster Potter even exist? What about me? And what happens after I go back? Will I stay there for the rest of my life?" by know Gwen was pacing around the room, dramatically waving her hands. "And another thing, you, Professor Dumbledore, said you found Fawkes, and that he was keeper of the sword. Ho could he be keeper of the sword if you had to find him? Shouldn't he have remained at the school?"

"Miss Morrison," Dumbledore began calmly, "I understand your confusion and anger. They are a normal response to such life-altering information. As to the reason I kept Fawkes, I didn't want Voldemort to know Fawkes was Gryffindor's pet. I wanted him to think Fawkes was my pet, thereby keeping the sword of Gryffindor safe, and eventually, you—" he looked pointedly at Gwen— "safe. As far as how far you will go back, we will only send you back to Mr. Riddle's sixth year. That is the pivotal year; there he learns of horcruxes, opens the Chamber, and eventually kills his father."

"Now, changing Mr. Riddle, although difficult, won't be as hard as you think. Remember, what gift do you posses that no one else does? Transform yourself, when the time is right into Voldemort. Show Tom the atrocity he is to become if he does not change. Encourage him to use his vast potential for good instead of evil. But above all else, I encourage you to love him—" Dumbledore was caught short by Gwen's angry and incoherent sputtering "—yes, _love_ him, whether as a friend, a brother or otherwise. _Love_ is the most powerful force on earth. It can change the coldest of hearts. You may not believe me now, but you will understand one day.

"Now, when you succeed, because I know you _will_, I cannot tell you exactly how you will change the future; no one can. But it can only be a change for good. You will not cease to exist, as you so dramatically put it, nor will Headmaster Potter. You may come back to the future only when you task is complete or when you decide to come back. You must go back, Miss Morrison, and I'm afraid if you won't go willingly, then you will sent back whether you like it or not. So I suggest that you begin working on harnessing your Transfiguration abilities now. Then, when you are ready, you will be sent back. Headmaster Potter and his colleagues will do all that they can to adequately prepare you. And now, since it is nearly one in the morning, I think it would be best if we all retire. Good night."

And with that, he disappeared from the portrait frame.

Gwen hardly slept that night; her mind twisted itself on confusing dreams of Voldemort. She'd heard stories about how hideous he was; yet she never had seen his twisted corpse for herself. She dreamt of a man with no face towering above her, laughing maniacally. He tried to reach out and choke her, but she reached for Gryffindor's sword and violently shoved it into his chest. Then, she saw herself standing before a tombstone with the name "Tom Marvolo Riddle" engraved on it. Instead of tearing the gravestone apart with her bare hands, as she initially wanted to, Gwen gently removed the weeds that threatened to ensnare it. Atop the grave she placed a burgundy rose. She stood up and shivered in the cool midnight breeze. As she turned to walk down the hill, Gwen came face to face with a handsome young boy. He looked at her sadly, and reached out to touch her cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered.


	4. And So It Begins

Chapter Four

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**And So It Begins**

_**The right time comes when one is ready.**_

_**-Carl C. Jung**_

One year passed and Gwen had still yet to go back in time. Everyone kept saying she needed more training. She was staring to chafe under the constant pressure; she rarely had a moment to herself. She no longer got to see Lana; she'd been recruited to play Quidditch for Ireland, and had left Hogwarts in the middle of seventh year. Anna Cole was Head Girl, and took every minute of the day to bash in Gwen's brain with that info. And to top it all off, Gwen still kept having that blasted dream every night. It was always the same. She could never see the faces clearly, but she knew that they belonged to Voldemort and Tom Riddle respectively.

One day when Gwen was in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Malfoy quietly pulled her aside. He asked her to see after class; because there was something he wanted to show her. Gwen nervously consented. The last time a male professor had asked her to stay after…_NO!_ She wasn't going to think of that; she couldn't. She was stronger now, more powerful than ever. The students filed out, and Gwen was left standing in the middle of the dank classroom. She always thought it smelt of death, but that was just the mildew from being a centuries old dungeon.

"Have a seat, Miss Morrison," Professor Malfoy said indifferently.

You'd think by now he'd at least of somewhat warmed up to her, but his attitude never went beyond cold professionalism.

"No thank you, I'd rather stand," she replied equally as frosty.

Professor Malfoy looked askance at her, and then spoke, only this time with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I assure you, Miss Morrison, that I have no intention of forcing myself on you like that Muggle professor of yours did years ago. I have a healthy appreciation for the female species, but that appreciation does not extend to anyone under the age of thirty. Now, if you don't mind, sit down. Please."

Gwen looked down red-faced, and on the verge of tears. How did he _know_? She'd never told anyone, not even Harry or Professor Dumbledore, much less Professor Malfoy. Yet he knew! Was he invading her mind against her will? No, he couldn't be, she'd trained against that.

"H-how did you know?" she asked weakly.

Professor Malfoy looked at her, and rolled his eyes slightly.

"Really, Miss Morrison, you shouldn't cry. It makes your face look puffy and blotchy. Most unattractive," and with that he conjured a tissue and handed it to her. "I know because all the professors know. When that man attempted to attack you, that was the first time your really demonstrated your powers, wasn't it? The man was found dead, wasn't he? And those fool Muggle doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him, but they suspected you had something to do with it didn't they? But you see, here in the Wizarding World, we have ways of knowing when a crime is committed, although in your case self-defense would be more accurate. When powerful magic, especially Dark Magic, like the Killing Curse is used, we know about it. That's why you were taken so abruptly by the Aurors; some thought you might have been a Death Eater that escaped, although I have no idea why you'd be in Muggle high-school if you were; what an insipid and stupid hiding place! Fortunately for you, Ms. Lovegood made her prophesy, and _Headmaster_ Potter made arrangements for you to come to Hogwarts. After all, we can't have Gordic Gryffindor's heir not have a _proper_ education, not can we?" he looked at her expectantly.

Gwen sighed; it was no use hiding now.

"No, I suppose, not. But, I have always wondered why I never was taken out of the Muggle world before that incident. I knew that I was a witch, but I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't do anything, because where I lived, everyone was so narrow minded and afraid. Anything that was different from them was evil, even if that wasn't true. Why wasn't I taken to Hogwarts earlier?"

"The answer to that is really quite simple, if you just _think_ about it, Miss Morrison," Professor Malfoy drawled. "_Headmaster_ Potter and the rest of us had the entire Wizarding World to repair after Voldemort's death, and really, do you think we had the time to go worrying about some orphaned witch in America? We had to take care of our own first, then you other people. It took five years to rebuild the Ministry and Hogwarts, not physically, of course, but you understand my meaning. We only had time to think about people outside our borders two years ago. You Americans, like always, are out of touch with the rest of the world, and suffered far less destruction from Voldemort and his minions. That is why we concentrated on America last; you didn't need our help. And so then the prophecy was made, you were discovered, and the rest, as they say, is history. So after that long and rather pointless conversation, I come to my real objective for having you here. I think you are now ready for your little 'mission.' I've brought with me some of my father's old things where he writes of Voldemort. You know my father was essentially the second in command, don't you?" Professor Malfoy looked up at Gwen.

When she nodded her head to show that she did in fact, know this information, Professor Malfoy frowned slightly, but continued his discourse.

"Yes, my father was the highest ranking Death Eater. He spoke often of the Dark Lord's cruelty and brilliance. I thought these papers might be useful," Malfoy the younger shoved an elegantly engraved emerald leather binder into her hands. "And now, be off with you," he said, fluttering his hand.

As Gwen turned to leave, she turned to Professor Malfoy hesitantly.

"Professor, you don't think I'll succeed, do you?" she asked despondently.

He regarded her stonily for a while before answering, "No, no I don't think you'll succeed. I agree with what you said the first night you learned of your mission. Men like Voldemort and my father don't change. They are incapable of thinking of anyone but themselves."

"And yet you train me," Gwen asked more than stated. "Why waste your time?"

"So that you'll prove me wrong," he answered simply.

And with that he ushered her out of the room, promising to send an owl to her next class explaining her tardiness.

Night fell, and the enchanted sky in the Great Hall was atypically overcast. Everyone chattered around her, but Gwen had never felt more alone. In her time at Hogwarts, she'd never truly made any friends, except for Lana, but now that she was gone, Gwen didn't have anyone. Not that she had time for friends anyway. She spent every waking moment studying or practicing for her mission. Headmaster Potter had refused to show her Voldemort in the Pensieve, he thought that she should put off her transformation into him as a last resort; she would only be allowed to do that if Tom wasn't responding as quickly as desired.

Gwen picked at her food; she just couldn't bring herself to eat. This was the big night, and she was anxious to get the whole thing over with. When dinner was over, Gwen waited for Ginny Potter. Gwen smiled fondly at her favorite teacher, who, over the past few months had become more like a sister to Gwen than a professor. The two ladies chatted about trivial things as they made their way up to Harry's office. Once inside, they sat down. Professor Malfoy was in his customary dark corner, watching the proceedings with feigned disinterest. Professor Ron Weasley was having a heated discussion with a busy haired lady, whom Gwen knew as Hermione Weasley, Ron's wife and Harry's other best friend. Hermione had come a few times to lecture Gwen about the dangers of time travel, because in her third year, Hermione had used a Time Turner in order to get to all her classes. Gwen would not be using a Time Turner because she was traveling too far back in time for one to be effective. Harry sat at his desk, talking comfortably to Ginny, who was perched on the edge of his chair. Dumbledore's portrait was empty, but when he finally came into view, everyone stopped what he or she were doing and gave him his or her attention.

"Welcome friends," he began cordially, "the time you all have been anxiously preparing for has finally arrived. Gwen, my dear, are you ready?" his blue eyes twinkled with anticipation.

Gwen swallowed hard and ran a hand through her fine coffee colored hair.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

"Good, good! Now, do you have all your things?" he asked.

Gwen checked her pockets; the "transfer" papers that Harry had created for her were there, along with her wand, some chap stick and a goodbye letter from Ginny. Gwen opened her trunk to recount her belongings for the hundredth time; everything was there, her extra robes, books, cauldron, and clothes that she'd transformed to look more like 1944 instead of the year 2017. She nodded and then stood up, unconsciously shaking.

"And now, Gwen, would you repeat the incantation after me?" Dumbledore enquired.

Gwen nodded, and spoke these words:

_**Through the sands of shifting time I go. The Past shall be my Present, and Future. Backwards I run to unravel the wrong that was committed. Renewed shall be what was lost; a friendship broken shall be forged anew. To claim my destiny I travel, and to the year 1944 I must go!**_

And with that a large swirling vortex appeared; lightening radiated from its center and one brilliantly white tongue snaked out and grabbed a hold of Gwen, pulling her inwards. She felt like was being simultaneously compressed and stretched; her muscles screamed in agony and her heart violently hammered in her chest. People she'd never seen before whizzed past her like a movie stuck on rewind. On and on she hurtled, until she landed on soft earth with a sickening thud. Gwen lay still for a few minutes, panting. As she struggled to get up, she heard excitedly high-pitched voices.

"Did you see that?" they squealed.

Gwen pushed herself gingerly off the ground and was met by the awe-struck stares of what appeared to be a gaggle of second or third year girls. Gwen shook her head to get rid of the spinning sensation, and smiled at them.

"Um…hello…my name is Gwen Morrison. Could you tell me where I am?" she realized that this was a rather lame greeting from someone who'd literally fallen out of the sky, but it was the best she could come up with.

One girl, with extremely large glasses and high pigtails said, "Oooh, you're outside the Hogwarts Express! We're just on our way there, did you just apparate here?"

"I-uh, yes, yes I did. Do you mind if I travel with you? I've never been to the Hogwarts Express before," Gwen lied, hoping to find a way to disentangle herself from the increasingly annoying little girls.

She followed them down a few country paths until they reached platform nine and three quarters. There were parents there, tearfully kissing their little ones goodbye, while the children squirmed and attempted to board the scarlet train. Gwen felt a twinge of self-pity; she'd never had anyone watch her leave. That feeling was soon replaced by a desperate desire to get away from the little girls; they were giggling incessantly and bombarding her with questions about where she'd come from. They were especially curious as to how she learned to apparate, because most people didn't acquire that skill until seventh year. Gwen recited her cover story about how she'd come from a private school in America where they did things there differently than Hogwarts.

Gwen, much to her chagrin, couldn't find an empty compartment on the train. Everyone gave her strange looks; after all, it wasn't often that they got a new student, and especially one as old as Gwen. She looked furtively for a place to sit where she'd be inconspicuous, but now that the train was abuzz with gossip about her, and remaining unseen was impossible. As Gwen turned to walk back down the hall, she slammed into something hard. She looked up into the face of the most gorgeous boy she'd seen in well…ever. He was tall and thin, with a mop of wavy raven hair and onyx eyes. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his cheekbones so high they could cut glass. Gwen stood gaping for a moment, and then regained her composure.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, as her cheeks turned scarlet.

He glared down at her for a few seconds before replying, "You should be. Why are you not in your compartment yet? I will have to take ten points from your house for your lack of propriety. What house are you in?" he asked in a richly imperious voice.

Gwen frowned, and snapped back, "I'm not in a house yet because I haven't been sorted. I'm a transfer student, and for your information, was on my way to find a seat, but they all seem to be taken. If you'll excuse me, I'll get out of your way," she sneered as she tried to push past him, but he remained motionless.

"Follow me," he said, turning sharply on his heal and gliding effortlessly down the hall.

Gwen trudged after him, beleaguered by her trunk.

"Surely he can't be," she muttered under her breath, but Gwen brushed that ridiculous thought from her mind.

That boy couldn't possible be Tom; he was too good looking. But he did have an attitude problem…. The boy stopped in front of a compartment, threw the door open, and motioned for Gwen to go inside. She nodded her thanks to him, and swept inside. Unfortunately for her, she was in the compartment with the annoying girls from her walk, they were all giggling again and casting flirtatious looks at the boy. As Gwen brought out her wand to levitate her trunk to the luggage rack, the boy already had his out, and with a flick of his wrist put the trunk in its rightful place. He looked at Gwen, nodded curtly, and slammed the door.

The little girls burst into a fit of "oohs" and "ahhs".

"Did you see him?" they cooed to Gwen.

She nodded and attempted to sit down, but a large pile of glittery pink magazines was in her way. She shoved them off the seat and settled in.

"What was it like," the girl with the large glasses squealed, "walking with him? Did he say anything? Did he smell good?" she asked in her chipmunk voice.

The others tittered with excitement. Gwen closed her eyes, praying for strength not to blast them all into next week.

"Well, considering that I have no idea who 'he' is, I'd say he's very stuck up. He tried to take points away from me just because I couldn't find a seat," Gwen sniffed.

Hot or not, he was a prick.

"Oooh, you don't know who Tom Riddle is? Why he's the most brilliant wizard ever! And so handsome! And he _talked_ to you!" the girl with the Clark Kent glasses exclaimed, hand over her heart.

Gwen, who had been drinking a bottle of water, spewed a mouthful of water all over the window.

"W-what did you say his name was?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for not realizing the obvious truth earlier.

"His name is Tom Riddle, and he's a sixth year prefect in Slytherin house. He's the smartest wizard in school, and everyone knows him. I can't believe you haven't heard of him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, and I'm Myrtle, by the way."

Gwen's head snapped round to look at Myrtle, or as everyone in Gwen's time knew her, Moaning Myrtle, the ghost that haunted the third floor bathroom. She was the one Tom had inadvertently killed when he released the basilisk. Gwen was beginning to think that might not have been such a bad thing after all, because Myrtle was quite possibly the most annoying person Gwen had ever met, even worse than Anna Cole, and that was a hard feat to accomplish.

When the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into the station to let the kids off, Gwen scrambled for her trunk and practically sprinted off the train. If she heard one more time how talented and beautiful and fabulous and smart and absolutely _wonderful_ Tom Riddle was, she would throw up. Gwen wanted just one day to go by when his name wasn't mentioned, but she knew that would be impossible, especially now that she was in his time. Just as she finished her thoughts, who would sweep past her, but the devil himself, Tom Riddle in the flesh.

_And what fine flesh it is,_ Gwen thought, before mentally slapping herself.

She'd spent far too long with those third years, their thought patterns were unfortunately starting to rub off on her. Grimacing at the thought of thinking like a thirteen year old, Gwen tried to find an empty carriage. Fortunately, she found an unoccupied one, and taking moment to pet the thestral, Gwen hopped inside. She had just barely smoothed her robes after sitting down, when a pretty young black girl popped her head in. She gasped slightly. Gwen, who by now was used to the attention, smiled at her.

"It's alright, I don't bite…hard. Have a seat, there's plenty of room."

Gwen patted the seat next to her. The girl looked around uncertainly, and then sat next to Gwen. Her large, frizzy hair bounced off her shoulders as she climbed aboard.

"My name's Gwen Morrison and I'm a sixth year transfer student. What's your name?" Gwen asked conversationally.

The girl responded, "I'm Emma Lyons, and I'm also a sixth year. I'm in Gryffindor." She smiled hesitantly. "Do you know what house you'll be in?" Emma asked.

Gwen knew exactly which house she'd be in, but answered, "No, I have no idea. Is one better than the other?"

"Well, their each different," Emma began slowly, as though she didn't want to offend anyone by her answer. "Ravenclaw is for those who seek knowledge…Hufflepuff is for those who are helpful and friendly…Gryffindor is for the brave and adventurous, and Slytherin…well…they're their own breed. They pretty much stick to themselves."

"Ah, I see," said Gwen.

Just then the carriage gave a jolt; they were off to the castle. After unloading, Gwen tried in vain to find Emma, but she was lost in the mass of students. Gwen ascended the steps up to the main entrance of the castle. As she reached out her hand to open the door, someone behind her cleared his or her throat loudly. Turning, Gwen came face to face with Tom Riddle for the second time that night.

"What, may I ask, are you doing?" he asked nosily.

Gwen, who was very tired and hungry, just looked at him.

"I was trying to open the door. You see, if you pull on the handle, a door opens, or at least so I'm told," she replied sarcastically. "Actually, I was trying to find the person to whom I'm supposed to give my transfer papers. Perhaps you could show me?" she challenged, more than asked.

Tom furrowed his brow, and then reached past her, opening the door and motioning for her to go in. He turned to the right and walked hastily up the stairs. Gwen had to flat out jog to keep up with his long strides.

"Hey, not so fast! Some of us are vertically challenged here!" she exclaimed.

Ignoring her completely, he continued upward, winding his way thought various passages until they reached the Transfiguration classroom. Tom rapped on the door twice. The door swung inwardly on its hinges and Tom stepped inside. Gwen, who by now was panting heavily from running up twenty flights of stairs, stumbled after him.

"_Professor_, there is this girl here," Tom motioned to the still breathless Gwen, "and she says that she is a transfer student. I brought her to see you, since Headmaster Dippet is gone."

Tom stepped aside to reveal a much younger and much alive Dumbledore. Instead of snow-white hair, the wise wizard had auburn hair. He still wore the half-moon spectacles, and his dancing blue eyes were unmistakable. He smiled kindly at her, and motioned for her to come forward. Gwen, who by now had caught her breath enough to speak, pulled out her papers from her pocket.

"Well, a transfer student, hmm? We haven't had one of those in quite a while! What is your name, my dear girl?" Dumbledore asked warmly.

"I'm Gwen Morrison, from America, sir," she said while handing him her papers. "Professor Fawkes sent me, from Phoenix, Arizona," she said, making sure to give Dumbledore direct eye contact.

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up.

"Really, did he now?" he asked, giving Gwen a scrutinizing look.

She nodded and then slid her eyes over to where Tom was glowering in the corner. Catching on that she wanted to talk to him alone, Dumbledore thanked Tom and sent him out of the room. Making sure that they were alone, Dumbledore motioned for Gwen to sit down.

"Now, what's all this about?" he asked gently.

Gwen sharply inhaled. Where to begin?

"I-I'm from the future," she spat out bluntly. "I'm the heiress of Gryffindor, and I've come to fulfill the prophecy."

"Ah, I see," said Dumbledore as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers together.

_So much for a good first impression,_ Gwen thought bitterly.

After an uncomfortable silence, she blurted, "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Quite the contrary, Miss Morrison. Your transfer papers, here, explain everything."

"They do?" Gwen asked, confused.

"Yes, yes they do. Your Headmaster, Potter, is it? He writes here that you've passed all the requirements for the job, so to speak. He mentions something here about a Voldemort; he said that you'd explain when you have time. Well?" Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"I-uh, can I tell you tomorrow? It's a really long and complicated story, and I don't have the strength for it," Gwen answered honestly.

Dumbledore nodded sympathetically.

"Yes, I can imagine; you've travel a long way. Come follow me, I'll take you to the Great Hall where you'll be sorted for formalities, of course."

He stood up and led the way, taking slower steps so that Gwen wouldn't have to run. Once inside the Great Hall, Dumbledore went to the front, where he presided over the sorting of the first year students. They were so small, and scared-looking, Gwen thought to herself as she waited at the back of the line. Her grass-green eyes scanned the room, taking in the sights. She saw Emma chatting animatedly with her friends, her long spidery fingers dancing around as she told a story. The Gryffindor table was abuzz with laughter; they were easily the loudest and most gregarious table. At the end of the Slytherin table sat Tom Riddle, surrounded by his cronies. On such person, a tall, pale boy, with white-blond hair and piercing gray eyes, was leaning towards Tom and whispering.

_Obviously a Malfoy_, Gwen surmised.

The sorting of the first years went on and on; she thought it would never end. Finally when it was her turn, Dumbledore made her introduction.

"It is my honor to introduce to you, your newest sixth year student, Miss Gwen Morrison. She comes to us from America. Please make her feel welcome and appreciated. And now Gwen, would you please sit here," he motioned to the stool beside him.

The room grew quiet, all eyes where on Gwen. She sat down and Dumbledore placed the sorting hat on her head.

"So, we meet again, my dear," it whispered in her ear. "Ready for your little mission, hmm? Be careful, that Slytherin is a slimy one."

_I know_, she thought back, slightly disconcerted at having a hat talking to her.

It chuckled slightly, and then bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Gwen removed the hat and handed it back to Dumbledore, who beamed at her. She made her way down to the cheering Gryffindor table, fully aware that Tom Riddle was watching her intently as she went.


	5. Friends And Foes

Chapter Five

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Friends and Foes**

_**There are years when nothing happens and years in which centuries happen.**_

_**- Carlos Fuentes**_

As Gwen descended to Gryffindor table, Emma waved Gwen over to a blank spot Emma had made on the bench.

"Hey! Welcome to Gryffindor!" Emma said cheerily. "These are my friends, Lola Dancy and Shalini Desai."

Lola waved excitedly, the movement caused her shaggy chestnut hair to flop over her large, honey colored eyes. Gwen smiled and wiggled her fingers back in greeting. Shalini tossed back her long, jet-black hair and flashed a bright, friendly smile.

"What part of America, do you come from?" Emma asked congenially.

"I'm originally from Texas, but I moved to Phoenix, Arizona before I came here," Gwen replied, making sure to keep the same cover she'd given Professor Dumbledore in front of Tom.

The last thing she needed was for his royal sliminess to blow her cover.

"Oh, did you ride a horse to school?" Lola asked spiritedly.

"Ah…no. No, I rode Bessie the Cow to school, right after I helped Pa milk 'er and Ma fed the chickens." Gwen answered, completely deadpan.

Her answer was met with dead silence.

She laughed uncomfortably, and then asked, "Pass the potatoes?"

* * *

The next day Gwen ate breakfast with Emma, Lola, and Shalini. Even though Gwen had only known them for a few hours, she felt an immediate connection to them. Emma was the girl prefect for Gryffindor, and she more than likely would be Head Girl next year. Lola was vivacious and arty, and she talked loudly and dramatically about everything. Shalini was sweet and easy going, and she always seemed to have a smile on her face. They all had Transfiguration next, so the girls offered to show Gwen the way. As they trooped up the stairs and into class, Gwen casually asked Lola what house they would be sharing Transfiguration with. Just as she suspected, it was the Slytherins.

"Better my best subject, than my worst," Gwen thought, privately praying that she wouldn't expose her ignorance in Potions to her new friends, and especially Tom because the less he knew of her weaknesses, the better.

Once in Professor Dumbledore's class, Gwen settled in her seat next to Emma at the front row. Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud bang, and who would it be, but Tom and his entourage. Gwen, with a sudden burst of mischievousness, started to hum Darth Vader's theme to herself.

"Dun-dun- dun dun-ta dun dun-ta dun!"

Emma looked questioningly in Gwen's direction, but Gwen just smiled and said, "I'll tell you later."

Tom placed his books on the first desk in the front row, adjacent to Gwen. His minions all stood obediently, waiting for their master to sit first. Only after Tom had settled in, did they sit down.

_Well, he certainly has them trained well,_ Gwen thought to herself.

At that moment Dumbledore walked in the room from his office, and held up his hand to signal the beginning of class. Gwen was very excited to be learning from one of the most highly esteemed wizards in history, especially in her subject of choice. She had only briefly spent time with him, and that was when he was in a portrait, and not a living, breathing entity.

"Hello, class, I thought we'd start today off as a review. We will be practicing non-verbal Transfiguration today, so wands away. I have some china here at the front; please pick a piece for yourself and your partner. I would like you to transfer it into an animal of your choice, but please no lions, tigers or bears. Now, I'm going to pair you off. Tom, why don't you help Miss Morrison, since you two have already met."

Dumbledore smiled widely, and then went down the rows, pairing people together. Gwen summoned up her courage, and turned, smiling politely to face a none-too-happy-looking Tom.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced, I'm Gwen," she stuck out her hand in greeting. "And you must be the illustrious Tom Riddle I've heard so much about."

He looked at silently, and then curled his lips back in what was supposed to be a smile, but reminded Gwen distinctly of a piranha about to devour an unfortunate dinner entrée.

"Indeed, we got off to a rather nasty start, didn't we, Miss Morrison?" he asked as he bent down and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to brush his lips ever so slightly.

His long, pale fingers were like ice, chilling Gwen to the bone. And yet, they were soft, like he'd never done a hard day's work. He dropped her hand, still holding her in his intense stare, his bottomless eyes attempting to bore a hole in hers. But she held his gaze equally as strong, her bright green eyes cutting through the darkness like a beam of light. Realizing that he wasn't going to get the reaction he wanted, Tom cleared his throat delicately and spoke.

"I'll get the china. Wait here."

He glided to the front and reached out to pick up a teacup, but Gwen levitated it out of his grasp. As the dainty pink flowery cup floated past, Gwen envisioned a flamingo, and with a purple poof of smoke, the hot pink bird appeared, flapping its wings in confusion. Tom looked at her wonderingly, as did the rest of the class, not one of who had even been able to conjure anything more than a cup with wings and talons.

"How did you do that?" he asked sharply.

"I just thought of it…no big deal…why?" she replied, blushing slightly under the intense attention of her peers.

"You didn't say any kind of spell or incantation? Nothing?" he asked as he advanced on her slowly, eying her like a trophy that he'd like to add to his collection.

Before Gwen could answer him, Dumbledore intervened, saying, "Congratulations Miss Morrison! I must say that's one of the finest transfigurations I've ever seen. Twenty-five points to Gryffindor!"

The rest of class passed without any more problems, as did the rest of the morning and lunch. Gwen ate with Shalini, Lola and Emma again, only this time they were joined by Samantha Joel, the Ravenclaw prefect. Samantha was in Herbology, the period after lunch, with Gwen and the girls. Samantha was very similar to Gwen in that they shared a sarcastic sense of humor. As the group ate, Lola dramatically retold the story of Gwen and the flamingo. Gwen was embarrassed at how Lola kept saying how bloody brilliant Gwen was and that even Tom Riddle was impressed, and quickly tried to change to subject, but to no avail. As Lola kept on and on, Gwen grew more and more uncomfortable.

Gwen's final class of the day, Advanced Potions, came much too soon for her taste. She had no idea why Dumbledore has put her in there; she'd specifically asked Harry not to let her be put in Advanced Potions. Yet here she was, all alone in the dank dungeon. Lola was in Advanced Divination, Emma in Advanced Ancient Ruins, and Shalini and Samantha had the period off. So there Gwen was, alone yet again in a class she hated with the unctuous, fat, bald, walrus whiskered Professor Slughorn. He welcomed her with a booming voice and a heavy-handed clap on the back.

"Welcome Miss Morrison to Advanced Potions! Where we really learn to cook up something- tee-he! _Magical_. Why don't you take a seat there next to Abigail Radcliff of Hufflepuff."

He motioned Gwen to a seat next to a brightly cheerful blonde, who reminded Gwen of Goldilocks from the Muggle fairy tale.

"And now class, if you will open your books to page three, we will read about _Felix Felicis_. Miss Morrison, if you will?" boomed Slughorn.

Gwen sighed, she was terribly afraid of speaking in front of people; her small, delicate hands began to shake and her low, firm voice became suddenly airy and high-pitched. As Gwen stumbled over her passage, she became increasingly aware of snickering behind her. Turning ever so slightly to look who it was, Gwen saw a Slytherin girl with long wavy black hair and large, doe-eyes, who was making a poor attempt to cover her laughter. The girl lightly ran her fingers over Tom's arm, batting her enormously long eyelashes and giggling. Tom gave an amused smirk, and fluidly removed his arm from her grasp. Gwen felt a pang of anger, and ask she flipped the next page to continue her sentence; Gwen caused the Slytherin girl's book to slam shut on her finger, giving her a rather nasty looking paper cut. She continued reading the rest of her paragraph, voice stronger and more confident. When she finished she looked up and gave Professor Slughorn her largest, most innocent smile. Out the corner of her eye she saw the Slytherin girl raise her wand, about to strike, when Tom turned to her, smiling charismatically and whispered something to her as he lowered her wand.

Slughorn, who had watched the whole incident, said "Er—well done my dear. And now, would everyone partner up?"

Gwen turned to Abigail and asked to be her partner. Abigail, unfortunately, was as bad at Potions as Gwen, and the two of them bungled their way to a slightly Pepto-Bismol pink colored _Felix Felicis_, when it should have been a brightly shimmering gold. When Professor Slughorn came by to check on them, he shook his head sadly, and expressed his concern at the girl's lack of potion making prowess.

"Tsk, tks, ladies, I'm afraid that this simply won't do. This is the simplest potion we shall make all year, and if you can't make it, then I'm afraid that you'll have to get into another class."

This promptly caused Abigail to burst into tears, causing the Slytherin's, particularly the girl from before, Islode Christensen, to burst into gratingly high-pitched giggles.

"Ooh lookit! She's _crying_! Tom, dear, did you ever see such a sight? Her face, oh, I just can't bare it! Why, she looks positively like a gnome!" Isolde trilled cruelly, as she hung on Tom's arm and flipped her hair back.

This caused Abigail to cry even harder, and sprint from the room. Gwen turned furiously towards Isolde, and told her in no uncertain terms where she could stick her wand if she ever said anything mean to Abigail again. Isolde froze in mid-laugh, and her eyes narrowed.

"Listen, you brash little _American_—" she said the word scornfully, much in the way Professor Malfoy would say _Headmaster_ Potter—"you may be new here, so you don't know the rules. I'm going to educate you real fast. Don't provoke me or any other of the Slytherins, or you will regret it. Isn't that right, Tom?" she cooed at the smirking boy.

"Yes, Isolde, you are quite right. Miss Morrison, although quite talented in Transfiguration— which coincidentally is taught by her head of Gryffindor House— is obviously not as gifted in other, more _refined_, areas." Tom replied smoothly.

Gwen was trembling with rage, but she maintained control. It would do her no good to act irrationally now, not when she was so outnumbered and Professor Slughorn would do nothing to punish anyone in his house—Syltherin— and especially not his golden boy, Tom Riddle.

After class Gwen stormed up the stairs, still in a huff.

_Why do I let them get to me like that?_ she wondered as she stomped along the passage until she reached Dumbledore's classroom.

Shaking her head to cleanse herself of her anger, Gwen forced a smile and opened the door. Professor Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, so she set down her bag and pulled out the Charms essay that was due in a week. As she scratched the parchment with her quill, she tried not to think of the incident in Potions, but images kept creeping in, distracting her from her work. Was it the fact that Isolde had been so rude to Abigail that made Gwen's blood boil, or was it something else? After all, Gwen hardly knew Abigail, but she seemed like she was incapable of being anything other than nice… yet there was something about the way Isolde fawned over Tom that irritated Gwen. Maybe it was because Gwen herself would never do such a thing—flinging herself at someone who clearly wasn't interested in her.

Gwen shrugged it off angrily and glanced at her watch; Professor Dumbledore was over ten minute late and she was starting to worry that he forgot their appointment; she'd promised to tell him of her "mission" and all that she knew about the future. She rummaged through her bag to retrieve the little bottles of memories Harry had so thoughtfully given her; she could pour them into Dumbledore's Pensieve and he could examine them at his leisure.

"Hello there Miss Morrison, sorry I'm late. Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked as he strode into the room with a large crystal bowl filled with the sour candy.

"Uh… sure," Gwen answered, taking a small, sticky candy from the bowl.

As Gwen sucked on the ridiculously sour treat, Dumbledore went into his office and returned with his Pensieve. He set it on his desk and went behind his desk and sat down.

"Well, how was your first day of school?" he asked congenially.

"It was fun," she lied.

"Good," he replied, but Gwen could tell that he didn't believe her.

But he didn't press the issue; instead he asked her if she'd like another lemon drop. Gwen declined politely, and then picked up the bottles of memories and handed it to Dumbledore, explaining what they were. He took it from her in his long fingered hand and poured the contents into the Pensieve, stirring the wispy gaseous liquid with his wand.

"So… where to begin, huh?" Gwen asked nervously.

"The beginning, is usually a good place," Dumbledore replied unhelpfully.

Gwen heaved a heavy sigh, and began.

"Well, as you know, Tom Riddle is a…very strange boy. He's charismatic, cold and very dangerous. He… he will become the most powerful Dark wizard of all time…that is, unless I some how stop him. But anyway… as you may or may not know, he is the heir of Salazar Slytherin— his mother was a pure blood witch, his father a Muggle. Tom inherited Slytherin's ability to talk to snakes. Tom, as he develops here at Hogwarts, will become more and more obsessed with his heritage and the Dark Arts. Since he is the heir of Slytherin, he will open the Chamber of Secrets, and unleash the horror within— a basilisk, that will kill any half-blood or 'mudblood' and I use that term only because that's what Slytherin and those who think like him use."

"I believe that Gryffindor, my ancestor, left his sword and phoenix, here, so that I could use his sword to kill the basilisk, if necessary or Fawkes could gouge out the basilisk's eyes, rendering it ineffective. The basilisk will kill Myrtle… I think she's a third year student… sorry, I don't remember what house she's in… anyway, Tom will blame her death on Hagrid, because of Hagrid's proclivity for keeping strange pets, and who would blame Tom, the seemingly upstanding student? Hagrid will be expelled and Tom rewarded."

"Some time between releasing the basilisk and the summer, Tom, will learn that his father abandoned his mother before his birth, and in the summer he will kill his father and his grandparents. He then will go on to create at least seven Horcruxes, because that is supposedly the most magical number, one of which will be his diary, another two will be the ring and locket of Slytherin. His diary will be protected in the Malfoy family, and eventually land in the hands of Lucius Malfoy, Abraxas' son, who then will sneak it into the possession of a Ginny Weasley, whom Tom will posses in order to reopen the Chamber of Secrets in the time of Harry Potter, the headmaster from my time."

She took a deep breath and continued on her story.

"This brings me to the important business of Harry. You see, there is a prophecy made saying that Voldemort— Tom's name that he creates for himself meaning 'flight from death'— and Harry cannot exist in the same world; one will have to kill the other. Voldemort, when learning of this prophecy, will try to kill Harry as a baby, but Harry survives due to the protection of the love of his parents. Voldemort's body is destroyed, but because of the Horcruxes, his spirit lives. Through several heinous trials, Harry defeats Voldemort, until Harry's fourth year, when Voldemort returns to bodily form because of a Dark spell he performs using Harry's blood… Harry eventually defeats Voldemort when he is seventeen, but not without severe loss. You are killed by one of Voldemort's followers, a man named Serverous Snape, in Harry's sixth year…" by this time Gwen's throat was completely dry, and she asked for a glass of water.

Dumbledore conjured her a glass, and then spoke for the first time during Gwen's monologue.

"I think that will be quite enough for today. You may go to dinner, I'm sure your friends will want to see you. I shall examine these memories considering the information you have given me combined with what I've been able to gather from observing Mr. Riddle…by the way, what do you think of him, now that you've actually met him in person?" he asked quietly, looking at Gwen over his half-moon glasses.

"I… I think he's very charismatic, that's for sure, so I can see why he would elicit such a following… but he's very arrogant…I…" she trailed off.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding and smiled brightly at Gwen, leading her to the door and opening it for her.


	6. Duel Of The Fates

Chapter Six

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Duel of the Fates**

**_The concept of power, whether of a god or of a man, always includes both the ability to help and the ability to harm._**

**_-Friedrich Nietzsche_**

_Uhg, what time is it?_ Gwen groggily thought as she attempted to wake up after yet another restless sleep.

She had been at the Hogwarts of the past for about two weeks, and she was finding it to be not that much different from the Hogwarts of her time. Sure, here everyone looked a little different, but that was due more to the fashion of the day than anything else. Most of the girls wore dresses or skirts under their robes, but Gwen took a fashion cue from Katherine Hepburn and wore tailored ladies pants, and although comfortable, they could never compare to her jeans. She begrudgingly extricated herself from the warm comfort of her four-poster bed, cursing slightly under her breath at the cold air around her.

As she shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower, Gwen reflected on how nice it was to not be bugged by Anna Cole; in fact, Gwen was astonished to find that she actually liked most of the people in her House. Gwen stepped into the shower, the warm water snapped her fully awake. She grinned slightly at her anticipation for breakfast; it was there that she could talk with her newfound friends. After so many years of not having anyone for companionship, she found that being around the girls lifted a burden from her shoulders that she didn't even know she had. And she'd only known them for two weeks!

_Amazing, how these things turn out_, she thought as she dried herself off and wrapped her hair in a towel. I feel like I've known them my entire life, but obviously, I haven't.

Gwen stepped up to the mirror to attempt to style her hair, but it fell limply and poofy to her shoulders. She signed resignedly; and with a few lazy waves of her wand, brushed on some light makeup and her school clothes.

* * *

"Hullo!" Emma called cheerfully from where she was already seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. 

She had a long, gold scarf tied in her enormous head of hair. Lola was frantically digging through her over sized olive colored purse, bearing a strong resemblance to a dog digging for a bone in the backyard. As Gwen flopped down next to her, Lola gave a yelp of surprise and her cat eye classes slipped off her nose and into her steaming bowl of oatmeal. Gwen waved her wand and the glasses flew back on Lola's nose, sans oatmeal.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Gwen asked Lola after they had subsided their giggling.

"My chap stick, I can't find it anywhere, and oh—" she held up a small tube—"here it is!" she exclaimed.

Shalini just rolled her eyes and mouthed, "she's crazy" to Gwen, who just smiled. The girls sat there chatting amicably for a few minutes, that is, until Headmaster Dippet stood up to make an announcement.

"If I could have your attention please," began the Headmaster, "I would like to make an announcement. It has come to my attention that there are a few of you who would like to start a dueling club. After much consideration and debate with the board of governors, the clubs has been approved, but with the caveat that only fifth year and above are allowed to join after passing tryouts. Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn have graciously obliged to oversee the club. Tryouts will be today from four o'clock until dinner. The best person from each House will compete in a final duel at the end of the year for a trophy. Good luck. That is all."

And with that he sat down. The Hall erupted into a geyser of excited chatter. Gwen couldn't help but get momentarily lost in the memory of the last time she was in a dueling club; that was what essentially started this whole mess… As she glanced up, Gwen caught Dumbledore's eye, he smiled at her, and inclined his slightly in the direction of the Slytherin table.

Gwen took a surreptitious glance at Tom, who was leaning backward, a smug smile plastered across his handsome face, and his long, pale fingers interlaced behind his head. Beside him Isolde was twirling her hair around her index finger, talking to Abraxas Malfoy. They were obviously flirting; Islode always tried to latch her talons into any male who was influential and, of course, a Slytherin. She laughed her fake high-pitched laugh, while Abraxas smiled his snide smile. Gwen glanced back at Tom; he was now looking intently in her direction. She nodded at him and he nodded back, but he never broke his gaze, almost as if he was trying to tell her that it was he who had instigated the dueling club. She knew, of course, that it was Dumbledore's idea; he'd gotten it from the memories in the Pensieve.

"Gwen! Are you ogling Tom Riddle again?" Lola asked loudly enough for the whole Hall to hear.

Gwen jumped slightly, and turned, red-faced to shush Lola.

"I was just looking around; you know I can't stand him!" she whispered furiously.

Lola winked playfully and said, "Sure you do. Come on, everybody knows he's bloody beautiful. I'd snog him."

She purred like a cat and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Gwen just huffed, while Emma said, "He's actually very nice, Gwen. He's always been very polite to me, and all the teachers love him. You've only known him for only a little while; give him a chance."

Gwen nodded despondently. Emma was right, Gwen had only known Tom for less than a month, and yet here she was, making harsh and unflattering judgments about him, something that she never would have done had he been anyone else. But she knew what everyone else didn't know; she knew the future and the heinous crimes Tom would commit. But that was the future, which was why she was here to change him, right? But so far he was proving just as infuriatingly difficult to befriend as she had anticipated.

Emma announced that it was time to go, so they all heaved their bags onto their shoulders and headed to class. Gwen loved Transfiguration whole-heartedly. Professor Dumbledore was by far the wisest man she had ever met; he deserved all the praise that Harry had lavished upon him, and more. By now, everyone knew that Gwen and Tom delighted in proving which of them had the better Transfiguration skills; they were constantly locked in a battle of one-upmanship. Nearly every time, Gwen would beat him by a full minute in whatever task they had, and today was no different.

The lesson called for everyone to learn to use a non-verbal command to transform his or her own hair a different color. Gwen, though she'd never admit it, was very envious of Isolde's bountiful locks. Gwen closed her eyes momentarily, focusing on a picture of Isolde, paying special attention to her raven hair. Gwen's eyes fluttered open when she felt a strange tingly sensation on her scalp. She picked up the plain, wooden handled mirror off her desk to examine the results. Sure enough, instead of her plain brown hair were beautifully coifed black tresses. She glanced over at Shalini, her partner for the day. Shalini was contorting her face into painful looking positions, and the front section of her hair turned a buttery blonde. She returned her face to its customary cheerful position, and then looked up to Gwen.

"Oooh, Gwen, I love your hair!" she exclaimed excitedly. "How does mine look?" she asked hopefully, and she picked up the mirror to appraise her appearance. "Hmm, not exactly what I was going for, but it works."

Just then, a shriek echoed through the room, causing some of the hand held mirrors to crack slightly. Lola had dropped her mirror on the stone floor, obliterating it into a thousand pieces. Her head was now covered in a garishly green explosion of curls, giving her the appearance of an overgrown piece of broccoli. Emma was trying to sooth Lola's hysterics to no avail. Emma's hair, meanwhile, was turning more and pinker by the second, and kept growing; eventually becoming so heavy that Emma had to sit down, otherwise she would have toppled over. The Slytherins, particularly Abraxas, seemed to find this particularly hilarious. Malfoy pointed and laughed at Lola and Emma, making cruel comments in between his gasps for breath. His own hair was a powder puff blue, making him look like an albino Smirf; so really, he had no right to be laughing. Dumbledore walked purposefully to Lola and Emma, waved his wand in a few complicated motions, and their hair returned to its normal state.

"That will be all for today, I think," Dumbledore said calmly, giving Abraxas a pointed look. "Will everyone please be seated, so that I may come around to examine your progress?" he asked firmly, sending the message that he would not tolerate any more cruel remarks from anyone else.

As he swept by, Dumbledore nodded at Shalini, remarking on how her two-toned look made her head look like a piece of toffee and chocolate fudge. He smiled at Gwen approvingly, and went on down the row; he rarely had to say anything to her since she always got his lessons in the first try.

For the first time since breakfast, Gwen looked over at Tom. His normally impeccably combed black hair was now a wavy mess of cinnamon curls.

"Nice hair Tom, although I think pink is more your color," she called out to him with a roguish smile.

Tom just looked at her insolently, and then said, "Your hair, Miss Morrison, is quite an improvement from its usually lackluster state. Perhaps you should keep it this way; it gives you an almost…exotic quality."

He then turned around to face Professor Dumbledore, who gave a stiff, if approving nod to Tom. Tom pointed his wand at his head, and the curls disappeared and his hair became wavy and black again. Gwen, on the other hand, sat stone still in her seat.

_Did Tom Riddle just give me a compliment, albeit, a backhanded one?_ she wondered to herself.

Maybe she _would_ keep her hair this way, if only just for a little while.

* * *

Four o'clock rolled around, much to Gwen's joy, for she was desperate to get out of Potions as soon as possible. Abigail Radcliff had transferred out of that class the day after Gwen and Isolde's little "discussion" and now had Care of Magical Creatures instead. Abigail, though she wasn't in the same House or any classes with Gwen anymore, had taken a likening to the spirited American, and would chat with her in the library where they did homework together. 

Gwen hurried down to the Great Hall, where the many of the other students had already gathered. Dumbledore and Slughorn were separating the students into grade levels within their Houses with the help of the prefects. Emma and a boy whose name Gwen didn't know were herding the Gryffindors, while Tom and Isolde were doing the same to the Slytherins. Gwen slipped in unnoticed next to Shalini and Lola, who was still recovering from the broccoli hair incident. Shalini, who by now was fed up with Lola's ranting, turned to Gwen.

"Oh! Hi there, I didn't see you! So, how about this dueling club, hm? Did you do anything like that back in America?" she asked pleasantly.

Gwen, who by was by now so familiar with her cover story that she no longer felt uncomfortable with the lies she had to tell, replied, "Yes, we had a dueling club. I really liked it; it was a lot of fun."

Emma now joined the group, looking slightly harassed.

"Hard time herding the kiddies?" Gwen asked.

Emma nodded, but before she could elaborate, Dumbledore called for order.

"Quiet, please. Professor Slughorn and I are pleased that all of you have decided to attend these tryouts. First, we would like to put on a little demonstration. Emma Lyons and Samantha Joel, would you please come here?" Dumbledore said.

Both girls obliged, climbing on top of the table that had been set up in the middle of the room. Samantha attacked, while Emma defended. Both girls were good, but Gwen couldn't help but think that their tactics were hopelessly traditional. To truly win a fight, one must expose the opponent's weaknesses, while faking one's own and then attacking relentlessly. Gwen watched with disinterest as pair after pair of students faced off against each other.

_Some things truly never do change,_ she thought to herself as yet another pair of fifth year students demonstrated their "skills".

This whole process was almost an exact replica of the last time she'd watched tryouts for a dueling club, save for different teachers and different students, but other than that, things were the same. Suddenly, Gwen felt the imposing yet comforting presence of Professor Dumbledore behind her.

"Does this bring back fond memories, Miss Morrison?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, anticipating what he was about to ask her next.

"I think it's about time the students saw a real duel, don't you?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the current pair of students.

Gwen's heart increased its pace rapidly. So this was it, her first big test to gain Tom's respect, for if he could respect her, then he could trust her, and if he could trust her, then she could help him change. She smoothed her robes and steeled herself, nodding to Dumbledore. He then stepped up to the table, thanking the two fifth year students and congratulating them on a job well done.

"And now, would Miss Gwen Morrison come to the front please?" he asked as she was already making her way through the crowd.

As he helped her step up on the table, he asked if there was anyone she'd like to duel since she was new and didn't know very many people. There was dead silence as the crowd waited for Gwen's answer, most of them anticipating her to say Shalini Desai or Lola Dancy, since both of them had yet to fight.

Instead, Gwen stated in a loud, firm voice, "Tom Riddle."

There was an audible gasp throughout the room. This girl was crazy or suicidal, asking to fight the most dangerous student in school. No one willfully fought Tom Riddle. Tom himself seemed to be genuinely surprised; apparently he'd been thinking the same thing. He quickly recovered, replacing his surprise with his customary smugness. He stepped up on the table with ease, for he was a good foot taller than Gwen and had the advantage of long legs.

With an elaborate flourish of his hand, Tom gave a formal bow and whispered in a low voice so that only Gwen could hear, "Be careful, brave little Gryffindor. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into."

Gwen replied in a hushed tone, "Oh, but I do." Then she said in a voice so that everyone could hear, "Let's show the little kiddies how it's really done, _Tommy boy_," and with a wickedly mischievous smile she curtsied, keeping her eyes on Tom the whole time.

Then, appearing as though she was going to strike, she waved her wand, but nothing happened. She looked around, and then grabbed her head, moaning, and collapsed to the ground. Apparently she had fainted, and Tom leaned over to check on her, for he was always the chivalrous gentleman.

As he leaned down she surreptitiously reached for her wand and bellowed, _"Expelliamus!"_ at the top of her lungs.

His wand went flying out of his hand, and clattered on the floor at the feet of Professor Slughorn.

Before Tom could summon his wand back to him, she attacked with _"Impedimenta!"_ causing him to move like molasses on a winter's day.

Tom's eyes burned with fury, and he said the _Ennervate_ charm in an oddly distorted voice.

His movements returned to their quick, fine movement.

"_Accio Wand!" _he yelled, and then whirled on Gwen, but again, she was too quick.

She transfigured his long black robes and school clothes into a gauzy pink tutu and his dress shoes into four-inch stiletto pumps. He toppled over and landed in an undignified heap, while Gwen laughed uproariously.

"Tom," she said while gasping for breath, "my, what sexy legs you have! I told you pink was your color!"

She whistled a catcall, and then burst into another giggle fit. The kids in the Hall erupted into nervous laughter, but instantly stopped when Tom stood up, his face a mask of cold fury. He tried to return his robes to their normal state, but Gwen was not about to let that happen just yet; she hadn't finished embarrassing him thoroughly.

Professor Slughorn looked so outraged at the ridiculous sight of his favorite student in an odd ballet rat/hooker outfit, that he was about was about to break the two apart, when Dumbledore whispered to him, "Let's see where this goes. Let them fight it out." His merry blue eyes twinkled, while Professor Slughorn stood agape, but consented nevertheless.

"You stupid little girl! What have you done to me? Turn me back this instant!" Tom hissed.

Gwen, however, would not relent, saying, "Tsk! Tsk! Such manners _Tommy dear_! I might have obliged, but since you've insulted me, I think I'll keep you this way. Besides, you have such a cute little bum—" but she was cut short by his cry of _"Petrificus Totalus!" _

Gwen had only a moment to react, and unfortunately, was a little slow. She staggered backwards, momentarily stunned. Tom took this opportunity to attempt to regain some of his dignity and transfigured his robes back to their imposing black.

Suddenly, Gwen sat up and sent the _Conjunctivitis_ curse hurtling at Tom, whose eyelids immediately glued shut.

He clawed at his face, and then wildly waved his wand in Gwen's general direction, and howled "_Locomotor Mortis!"_

Her legs snapped together and she dropped painfully on top of the table.

_I'm really getting tired of all this falling; it's really starting to hurt,_ she thought to herself, although her adrenalin kept her from feeling too much pain.

She pointed her wand at Tom and cursed him with the Hover Charm. He had just managed to free his eyelids from his cheek when he was hoisted into the air, hovering as though he was a shirt hung up on a hanger. Gwen gingerly got to her feet, only to have Tom reign down fire upon her. She was barely able to conjure a Patronus-like shield in the shape of a large, female lion. She then sent the Patronus charging toward Tom, thrashing him against the wall. He slumped down with an appalling thud, suddenly eerily still.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd, and Isolde screamed out "NO!"

Gwen, in a moment of uncertainty, stood still. When Tom did not attack, she began to get worried.

_Maybe I hit him a little too hard,_ she thought as she hesitantly reached out towards him.

When she touched his shoulder to see if he was all right, he didn't move. This truly alarmed Gwen, and she immediately felt the white-hot pangs of guilt start to boil in her stomach. But before she could call for help, a terrible screeching sound echoed throughout the hall followed by thunderous footsteps. Gwen thought she saw Tom's eyes flicker, but was distracted by the petrified screams echoing from throughout the Hall. Gwen turned and to her horror, saw one the suits of armor barreling towards her, broadsword raised. She quickly rolled out of the way as the knight in not-so-shining-armor slammed his blade into the table, right where her head had been previously.

She quickly transfigured one of the candelabras into a shield, and held it aloft as she tried to stupefy the enchanted knight. Unfortunately, nothing worked, and the knight kept coming—he was a juggernaut. She tried fire, but the knight ran right on through, untouched. Gwen kept throwing more and more desperate curses, but nothing worked. Tom, by now, was standing, fully cognizant. He seemed to be directing the knight's movement, taking delighting in Gwen's alarm. The other students, meanwhile, stood in petrified awe at the scene before them. Professor Slughorn's fat little belly was shaking with fear, but Dumbledore stood tall and proud, his hand resting firmly on his colleague's shoulder.

As Gwen was about to give up hope, she tripped, and fell backward. The knight raised his broadsword menacingly, but before he could strike, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Fawkes flew in singing his weirdly beautiful song, Gryffindor's sword in his talons. He dropped the sword next to Gwen, and circled the room, crying plaintively. Gwen grasped the sword firmly in hand and brought it up in the nick of time to block the oncoming sword.

Suddenly, the knight stopped, and spoke in a deeply resonate voice, "The sword of Gryffindor! M'lady is holding the sword of Gryffindor; hence she must be his heir!"

He dropped his own sword and kneeled before Gwen.

"I offer my life's service to you and my unwavering allegiance. Will m'lady ever forgive me for harming her?"

Gwen hesitantly glanced over at Dumbledore, and then back at the knight.

"Um… sure I forgive you…Sir…ah, what is your name?" she asked, slightly woozy.

"Sir Balderdash, m'lady," he answered.

"Right. Sir Balderdash. Well, um, why don't you go, um, back to your spot on the wall," she instructed.

The knight bowed low and returned to his position. Tom meanwhile was staring at Gwen with a wide-eyed and predatory look.

"_You_ are the heiress, of _Gryffindor_?" he sneered, giving a cold high-pitched laugh. "What is the Wizarding World coming to, when an arrogant, stupid, brash,_ American _is heir to one of the greatest magical legacies ever? You may hold Gryffindor's shiny little letter opener and have his songbird, but you are nothing like your ancestor. _You are not brave; you don't know the meaning of the word_," he spat at her.

Gwen by now was trembling with rage, and she viciously kicked Tom in the stomach, causing him to double over. She kicked him again, this time sweeping his knees out from under him. Then she reached up, gripped his silver and green necktie, and wrapped it around her hand, jerking his head up to meet hers. His eyes bulged and the veins in his head grew large and fat with the constricted blood in them. Gwen menacingly poked the sword at Tom's neck.

"_Don't you dare insult my ancestors, you arrogant, little, half-blood bastard,_" she growled into his ear.

And with that she slammed his head into the table, still grasping his necktie.

"_Don't think you're the only one capable of cruelty, heir of Slytherin,_" she whispered maliciously in his ear.

She released him, and stood up, her green eyes flashing coldly around the room.

"Sorry to take up so much time, professors," she said flatly, not looking at anyone.

By now the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and her breathing was heavy. Fawkes fluttered to her side, and perched regally on her shoulder. Gwen's robes swirled dramatically behind her as she jumped from the table and marched through the parting crowd. No one said a word as she sauntered past, head held high. The only sound that could be heard in the Hall was the choking gasps of Tom Riddle.


	7. Dinky

I'm just going back through this story and editing it. There's nothing new here.

* * *

Chapter Seven

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Dinky**

_**If a man knows more than others, he becomes lonely.**_

_**-Carl C. Jung**_

As Gwen lay in bed, her mind swirled with a torrid of emotions. She had been so emotionally and physically drained from the duel with Tom Riddle that she didn't bother to go to dinner. She wasn't hungry, and had decided to take a long, relaxing shower in lieu of eating. Besides, she wasn't in the mood to deal with everyone gossiping about her behind her back, as if she were stupid and couldn't hear what people were saying. She had seen the petrified looks on their faces as she passed by them on her way up to the common room.

_Whatever,_ she thought moodily.

Gwen was really didn't care what other people thought of her; she couldn't change their minds, anyway. Emma and the rest of her "friends" would probably desert her. Gwen sighed heavily. Maybe she would just avoid them for a while until they realized that she wasn't totally psychotic and violent.

As Gwen rolled over onto her side, she wished she had someone to talk to. True, she could always go to Dumbledore, but she wished that she had someone else, like her parents. Just then Gwen heard someone come up the stairs and into the dorm. Gwen remained motionless behind the drawn scarlet curtains. Whoever it was seemed to tiptoe past, like a mouse past a sleeping cat. Gwen sighed again. It was going to be a long week.

When Gwen entered the Great Hall the next day for breakfast, Emma, Lola, and Shalini were huddled together. They pretended not to see Gwen, and engaged in overtly loud conversation. Gwen sat down at the opposite end of the table from them, and the people around her vacated their seats around her, scurrying away quickly and avoiding her gaze. Gwen just stabbed at her eggs, pretending not to care. In truth these simple yet profound gestures cut her more deeply than any nasty comment or curse Tom Riddle could hurl at her.

Speaking of the devil, just then Tom walked in, accompanied by his usual entourage plus a few new recruits, mostly fawning girls who shot scathing looks at the back of Gwen's head. Tom was smiling his empty, cruel smile, letting the unadulterated ass-kissing sweep over him. Gwen snorted into her pumpkin juice, causing some of the liquid to go down the wrong way, into her windpipe. She coughed and wheezed until she could breathe again.

Shaking her head in disgust, she wiped her mouth with a napkin. About that time, the sound of flapping wings and hooting owls sounded overhead. The morning post had arrived, most of it letters from overly concerned parents checking in on first year students.

Gwen frankly didn't care for the morning post, because it served as one more reminder of her lack of family ties. She had never gotten any mail from anyone, and frankly didn't expect to ever receive any. That's why she was so surprised when a brown, tawny owl landed in front of her, its large, golden eyes boring into her imploringly. Attached to its spindly little talon was a small, rolled piece of cream-colored parchment, tied with a red ribbon. Gwen gingerly untied the note from the bird and handed it a pecan from the table. The owl took the nut gratefully in its beak and with a great fluttering of wings, flew off. Gwen unrolled the parchment and read it, thoughtfully munching on croissant.

_**Dear Miss Morrison,**_

_**Please meet me five minutes early, before class starts. I wish to discuss with you your behavior during the duel yesterday.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Professor A. Dumbledore**_

_Great, just what I need_, Gwen thought despondently to herself, _one more person angry with me. As if it was my fault Tom is such a prick._

She shoved the rest of the croissant in her mouth, haphazardly wiping the flakes from her lips. She slung her bag over her left shoulder, and cast one last, longing glance at the place where Emma and the girls were chatting. Gwen caught Shalini's eye, but Shalini quickly looked away.

As Gwen was nearly out the heavy oak doors of the Great Hall, she heard the all-too-familiar high-pitched voice of Moaning Myrtle.

"_YOU_! I thought you were my friend! How could you hurt Tom Riddle? He's the bestest wizard in school, and he's a lot smarter than you!" she shrieked.

Gwen halted, took a deep breath, and turned around to find Myrtle at the head of a gaggle of girls, the same ones from the train. They all had their hands on their hips and spiteful expressions on their faces.

"First of all, Myrtle, _darling, _'bestest' isn't a word. Second, when did we _ever_ agree that we're friends? Just because I talked to you on the train _does not_ make you my _friend_. And third, I'm quite well aware of the fact that Mr. Riddle is a very… intelligent…person… but you weren't there at the duel, so you have _no_ idea what actually happened. And finally, I really don't think _dear, sweet_ _Tommy_ _boy_ needs _you_ to defend him; he's a grown boy and quite capable of that on his own," Gwen said coolly, staring down Myrtle and her friends, before spinning on her heel as if to leave.

"OH! You're so rude! I hate you! _Wingardian Leviosa!" _Myrtle furiously pointed her wand at Gwen's back.

Nothing happened. Gwen turned around, this time much more quickly, a slightly maniacal gleam in her eyes.

"Tsk, tsk, Myrtle! _Hate_ is such a _strong_ word. _Really_, if I was afraid of you, do you think that I'd turn my back on you? If Tom Riddle, the _'bestest'_ wizard in school can't stop me, what makes you think _you_ can? Hmm?" Gwen asked, glaring at a frightened looking Myrtle. "That's what I thought. Now, if you're so intent on defending Tom, I suggest you go ask him if you could join his minions. I'm sure he'd love to have a few more boot-lickers. Isn't that right, _Tommy boy_?" Gwen asked loudly in Tom's general direction.

The room froze for a little bit, and Gwen took this as her cue to exit. With a flourish of her robes, she was gone.

Upon entering Professor Dumbledore's classroom, Gwen couldn't help but feel a little angry.

_If only people knew who Tom really was, they wouldn't be blindly following him around, worshiping the ground he walked on!_ she thought angrily to herself.

Professor Dumbledore was standing at the window, looking peacefully outside with his hands clasped behind his back. He turned around to face Gwen at the sound of her footsteps.

"Ah, Miss Morrison, glad you got my message in time. Well, sit down, sit down."

He motioned for Gwen to take her usual seat at the front. Dumbledore stepped away from the window and came to sit atop the edge of his desk, in front of Gwen.

He looked over his half-moon glasses at Gwen for a moment, and then asked, "Do you care to explain what happened yesterday?"

Gwen shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze, and mumbled, "I just wanted to win, Professor. I thought that if I showed Tom my abilities, he might respect me. Then, maybe we could be friends."

Only after she said this did she realize how silly it sounded. Beating Tom wasn't going to get him to be friends with her; instead, she had probably marked herself as a target for the megalomaniac-in-training.

Professor Dumbledore spoke quietly, saying, "I realize that you were probably doing what you though best at the time, but I think that you might have taken things a bit too far. I think it would be in your best interest to apologize not only to Mr. Riddle, but to your friends, as well. It's amazing how far the words, 'I'm sorry' can go."

His blue eyes had a faint twinkle in them as he finished talking. Gwen nodded in shame; her guilt was now so thick she thought she might retch. That was not unusual for her, though, she always had a strong sense of guilt that was ten times more effective than any lecture or punishment she might endure.

"Is it ok if I write him a letter?" she asked. "I'd feel much better if I knew I could edit what I want to say in stead of making a fool of myself."

"I think that is a most excellent idea, Miss Morrison," Dumbledore answered, clearly pleased.

The bell rang, and Gwen had no time to complete a first draft of her apology note to Tom or her friends, for class had started. Students filed in, but left a wide path around Gwen for fear she'd turn them into something "unnatural." Emma, who usually sat next to Gwen, crowded onto the bench with Shalini and Lola. Tom, however, strode right up to his seat next to Gwen and sat down as though nothing had happened. He seemed completely unaware that the girl who had nearly killed him was sitting no more than four feet away from him. Instead, Tom set out his books in their customary order, placed his quill where he always did, and looked up expectantly for Professor Dumbledore to begin class.

Gwen wondered incredulously how he could be so calm around her. Surely he felt something—rage, fear, loathing—something! Yet there he sat, his back ramrod straight and onyx eyes fixed dead ahead. Gwen became slowly infuriated at his lack of emotion. What was his problem? She'd expected some nasty threat, some snidely threatening remark, and all she got was silent indifference! The nerve of him, ignoring her like that! She'd thoroughly thrashed him and he acted as though nothing had happened. Gwen huffed quietly, and snapped her book open a bit too fast. It flew off her desk and landed right atop Tom's inkwell, shattering it with a tinkling crash. She cringed visibly and scurried over to his desk to pick up her sopping book.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," she mumbled under her breath, painfully aware of the color rising to her cheeks.

She waved her wand to repair his bottle, and quickly siphoned the ink from her book into the inkwell. Once the inkwell was filled back to its original state, Gwen nodded to Tom and breathed another apology before returning to her seat. She could feel the morbid curiosity from the other students slowly strangling her.

"Well, now that everyone is settled in, are we ready to begin class?" Dumbledore asked as though nothing had happened.

He then went straight into his lecture, and didn't stop until the bell rang to dismiss class. Gwen was thankful that he didn't allow them to work in partners today; she didn't think she could handle any more embarrassment. Little did she know that this was only the beginning.

Gwen hurried out of Transfiguration and to Defense Against the Dark Arts. There she was the unfortunate victim of a peculiar animal called the muskrat. This was no ordinary muskrat, though, oh no, it was something far more sinister. This animal would attach itself to the victim's head, and then begin shouting in a loud voice ridiculously false sexual fantasies of the victim. Apparently Gwen wanted Peeves the Poltergeist to corner her in the Hospital Wing…and the rest is best left unsaid. Gwen finally managed to remove the evil animal by transfiguring it into a rather nice looking fur hat.

In her next class, Charms, Abraxas Malfoy "accidentally" made Gwen's books shriek every time she talked. He then did an alarmingly accurate impression of Gwen from when she tried to get rid of the muskrat, and made lewd comments about Gwen and her "fantasies." It was all she could do to keep from blasting him into next week.

Gwen decided to skip lunch and scuttled back to common room. There she was able to sit in welcome silence for a few minutes, tiredly rubbing her eyes and head to relieve her ever-mounting stress. As she was contemplating the pros and cons of skipping the rest of her classes, a noisy pop came from behind her. Gwen jumped about a foot in the air, toppled out of her chair, and rolled into a standing position, wand at the ready.

"Dinky is sorry for disturbing the miss, Dinky should be punished!" squeaked a small house elf with a comically long nose and ears.

She ran over to the fireplace and began banging her head with a fire poker.

"Bad Dinky! Bad! Bad!" she screeched with each successive whap to her head.

Gwen, who had regained her wits by now, was clearly disturbed by this action. She swiftly removed the fire poker from Dinky and set it back in its holder.

"What are you doing?" Gwen asked the strange house elf.

"Dinky was going to clean the common room after morning break, she didn't know a student would be here. Dinky is sorry!" she wailed, blowing her nose on her uniform loudly.

"Don't be sorry, you had no way of knowing I'd be here," Gwen replied in a soothing tone. "I'm not technically supposed to be here anyway, but I didn't want to go to lunch. My name's Gwen Morrison, by the way."

Gwen smiled at the elf.

"Why would Gwen Morrison not want to go to lunch? Does she not like the food?" Dinky asked as she was on the verge of tears again. "Dinky always helps make the food for Gryffindor House. Does Dinky's cooking not please Gwen Morrison?" the elf asked, her large brown eyes filling with tears again.

"No! No, there's nothing wrong with the food; it's actually quite delicious, I just don't want to deal with the other students right now. I need some time alone."

Gwen really didn't want to go into details about why she needed to be by herself to a house elf.

"Why would Gwen Morrison not want to eat with her House? What is wrong with eating with Gryffindor House?" Dinky asked with the innocent curiosity of a young child.

Gwen sighed, and sat down.

"It's a long story. Basically, I beat Tom Riddle, a Slytherin, yesterday, in a duel. Now everyone hates me."

Gwen drummed her fingers absent-mindedly on the scarlet arm of her chair.

"Tom Riddle is a bad boy! Gwen Morrison must be very powerful to beat him in a duel! Dinky does not hate Gwen Morrison!" Dinky squeaked.

"Thank you, I appreciate that," Gwen said softly, glad to have at least one supporter.

"Would Gwen Morrison want Dinky to bring food to the common room for her? Dinky can bring whatever Gwen Morrison wants!" Dinky asked excitedly.

"That would be great; just get me something light, like a sandwich. I'm not very hungry and I've got some letters to write," Gwen replied.

Dinky nodded and disappeared with another loud pop. Gwen summoned some card-stock paper from her trunk in the dorm room and pulled out her quill. She tapped the end of her quill against her chin.

"Where to begin?" she asked herself. Gwen decided to start with letters to her friends and save the hardest apology note, Tom's letter, for last.

Gwen finished her note to Emma first, followed by Lola and Shalini. Those were relatively easy to write, Gwen just explained that she had no intention of seriously hurting Tom, and that she was just oh so sorry for hurting him, and how she couldn't bear the shame and would they please, please forgive her and be her friend again. Satisfied with her level of groveling, Gwen sealed each envelope with a flick of her wand. She ran up to the dorm and places each girl's letter on her bed. She then descended the stairs quickly at the sound of Dinky popping back into the common room.

"Dinky brought Gwen Morrison her lunch! Dinky hopes she likes it; Dinky made it herself," Dinky squeaked as she teetered over to a table to put down the tray containing a sandwich made of turkey, avocado, tomato, and cheese on toasted wheat bread.

A small dish on the side had a small assortment of grapes, strawberries, and blueberries. And to top it all off was a large chocolate chip cookie. Gwen's stomach growled appreciatively as she crossed the common room to eat her lunch. She glanced at her watch; she'd have to hurry, she only had about twenty minutes to eat and be in her next class. Dinky watched her hopefully.

"Does Gwen Morrison like Dinky's sandwich?" she asked.

Gwen held up her index finger to indicate for Dinky to wait until Gwen had swallowed her mouthful. After she'd properly chewed and swallowed, she smiled at the little house elf and thanked her for the generous lunch. Dinky seemed most pleased by this praise.

"Dinky," Gwen began slowly, trying not to upset the unpredictable house elf, "what did you mean when you said 'Tom Riddle is a bad boy'?"

"Dinky does not like to speak badly of other students, it is not proper for a house elf! But Dinky likes Gwen Morrison, so Dinky will tell her. Tom Riddle is very mean to the house elves in Slytherin House. He kicks them and orders them to do very dirty jobs. Tom Riddle makes life very hard for his house elves!" she replied shrilly. "And he sneaks around at night when he should be in bed! Sometimes, he even goes into the girls' bathroom!"

Gwen looked sharply at the house elf. "Which girls' bathroom does he go in?"

"Dinky has seen him go into the girls' bathroom in the dungeon. Dinky does not follow because she fears Tom Riddle!" she was now crying and before Gwen could say something to comfort the distressed house elf, Dinky disappeared with another loud pop.

Gwen blinked at the spot where Dinky had been standing just seconds before. A bell rang and snapped Gwen to attention. She glanced at her watch and cursed loudly before grabbing her books; she shoved a few more grapes into her mouth and sprinted out the door, shutting the portrait hole with a resounding bang that angered the Fat Lady. Gwen yelled an apology over her shoulder and ran pell-mell down the staircase and out the front doors to Herbology. Unfortunately, Gwen arrived two minutes late and ten points was taken from her House. The other Gryffindors glared at Gwen, who just hung her head and prayed for the day to hurry up and finish.

Gwen's heart really wasn't into her work. Her thoughts kept returning to what Dinky had said earlier. So Tom had already started searching for the Chamber of Secrets, had he? Gwen exhaled loudly. Well this would throw a kink into her plans; she'd been told that he didn't release the basilisk until the end of the school year. Gwen was glad Harry had given her the Marauders Map and the Invisibility Cloak; she'd just have to give Mr. Riddle a little "supervised attention."

* * *

Thank you so much to everyone that reviewed, especially to my two most loyal reviewers WanderingTeen and kavi sama. And as a reward for being such good reviewers, you both get a…drum roll please…serenade by none other than Tom Riddle himself! Yay!

TR: I hate you, you know that?

Me: Shut up and sing, Tommy boy, or I'll burn your Diary.

TR: You wouldn't!

Me: Watch me.

TR: _Fine_.

He proceeds to warble "Feelin' Good" by Michael Bublé, complete with jazz hands and tacky dance moves.


	8. Tutorials

Chapter Eight

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Tutorials**

_**The lust for power is not rooted in strength but in weakness.**_

_**-Erich Fromm**_

_Potions_. What an odious word. Everything about it reeked of something nasty and unnatural. Yet once again Gwen found herself sitting in the cold dungeon, staring at the clock, wondering if Professor Slughorn had placed a spell on it to slow time. There the minutes ticked by slowly, mocking her and her stupidity. Gwen had somehow managed to get her cauldron to explode in her face, covering her with a garishly pink chewing gum like substance.

"This is officially the worst day of my life," Gwen thought darkly as she tried to remove the gum from her hair, which she had kept the same since Transfiguration class yesterday.

All of the sudden, having long, thick, wavy hair didn't seem like such an advantage. She tried to transfigure the gum off her head, but for the first time in her life, her powers failed her. No matter how hard she concentrated, the gum would not come off. This only made the Slytherins laugh harder, particularly Isolde. She and Abraxas seemed to have taken it upon themselves to be as nasty to Gwen as possible, probably to show their loyalty to their "master."

Speaking, of Tom, where was he? Gwen glanced about the room, looking for his tall figure. Wherever he was, Professor Slughorn was sure to be close by. As if to answer her question, Tom appeared from Professor Slughorn's office, where he had been talking with the rotund man. Tom looked quizzically at his fellow Slytherin's, wondering why they were laughing. His gaze then traveled to Gwen, and instead of smirking at her, he quickly looked away.

Unfortunately, the bell rang, and Gwen's hair grew more and more hardened with the gummy substance. She sighed resignedly, and approached Professor Slughorn's office where he was still holed up. She was looking down at her shoes as she walked, and ran right into the portly professor.

"Oh, my dear Miss Morrison! What a mess! Here come in my office, and let's take a look at your hair."

He poked and prodded her head with his stubby finger, muttering into his walrus mustache. He then went over to a small cherry wood cabinet and pulled out a vial of opaque blue liquid.

"Here, drink this, Miss Morrison, and you should be just fine."

He handed the vial to her. Gwen opened the vial, closed her eyes, and threw it in the back of her mouth. Strangely, it didn't taste like sludge, but more like…peppermint. Odd. Gwen was expecting some horrible tasting substance. She opened her eyes to find Tom leaning quietly against Professor Slughorn's desk. His arms were crosses over his thin chest, and his eyes were staring straight ahead, past Gwen and Professor Slughorn, and into the wall. He did _not_ look happy, but then again, this is Tom Riddle we're talking about here.

"Well, well, all better, are we?" Professor Slughorn asked in attempted cheerfulness.

He was looking at Gwen expectedly as she gingerly patted her head. All of the gum was gone, and her hair was back to its natural state—mid-shoulder length, and coffee brown.

"Well, so long as we are all here, why don't you tell Miss Morrison the good news Tom, my boy?" Professor Slughorn beamed at his favorite student with obvious favoritism.

Tom tore his gaze from the wall and glanced slightly at Gwen. He then returned to staring at the wall as he spoke.

"Professor Slughorn has asked me to give you private tutorials in Potions, since you are _obviously_ having some difficulty. Naturally, I did not want to disappoint my _favorite_ professor—" he smiled charismatically at Professor Slughorn who pretended to put off the brown nosing— er— _compliment_—"and so I have agreed. We start tonight. Be here at seven. Do not be late, I have many pressing engagements, and I will not be held up by your tardiness."

He then nodded pleasantly to the professor and excused himself. Gwen looked after him dumbly, not fully realizing the implications of what he just said. All she could think of was how her life was now officially over. Honestly, as far as Gwen was concerned, there really couldn't be anything worse than being stuck in a dungeon, alone with Tom Riddle.

"So, Miss Morrison, I understand that you are free for the rest of the day?" Professor Slughorn asked, breaking into Gwen's thoughts.

"I-uh yes, Potions is my last period. Why?" she looked at him warily.

Gwen was familiar with Slughorn's affinity for people with wealth and powerful connections; the man loved comfort, as was obvious by his potbelly and plush office.

"Well, well, then you won't mind having a little chat with me, then will you? Crystallized pineapple?" he offered her one of the treats.

"No thank you," she replied.

"Ew, candied pineapple. Gross," she thought privately.

"So, Professor, if you don't mind my asking, why do you want Tom to tutor me? You were there yesterday at the duel, and you know that, well… he and I aren't exactly the best of friends. Why can't you tutor me, or just get me into another class?" she asked.

"Ah, well, I want my two favorite students to get to know each other a little better. After all, you both remind me of some students I had a few years ago, they're both now in the Ministry… that reminds me…" and he trailed off into a long winded speech about some person who did something and it was really wonderful and this person thanked him and said that they owed Slughorn everything and on and on.

Gwen quit listening halfway through the story, but remembered to nod and smile as though she were vastly impressed and interested.

"Get to know each other a little better? What does he mean by that? And favorite students? Tom, well, yeah, sure I can see what Slughorn would call him a favorite. But me? Why me? Unless… oh, I get it now. He knows that I'm heiress of Gryffindor after yesterday and Sir Balderdash. He must think that I have some connections or money or something, so naturally he would want to pair me with Tom, his favorite student, in order to advance Tom and perhaps Slughorn himself… but he was really frightened of us yesterday…maybe Dumbledore had a chat with him..." she surmised.

"Well, Professor, it's been a delightful chat, but I really must go. Homework, you know."

Gwen smiled kindly at the Potions master and exited his office. As she was picking up her books to leave, Professor Slughorn cleared his throat behind her, as if he wanted to say something.

"Miss Morrison, I'm not quite sure how to ask this, after all I don't want to pry, I'm not a nosy person by nature, but I just couldn't help but wonder…" he took a deep breath and continued in a giddy sort of way, "Are you really the heiress of Gordic Gryffindor?"

"Don't want to pry, my ass," Gwen thought grumpily before answering shortly, "Yes, I am. What about it?" she stared at the professor defiantly, as though daring him to question her some more.

Professor Slughorn, however, was completely oblivious to Gwen's obvious defensiveness. Instead, his eyes danced with sheer delight; he had found a living, breathing relative to one of the greatest wizards of all time! Oh, imagine the possibilities she offered, and if he, he Horace Slughorn could teach her, why the benefits would be endless!

"And to think that you're an American, by Jove!" he squeaked. "Who would have thought Gordic Gryffindor's heir would be a Yank!"

"What's wrong with being an American?" Gwen asked sharply. She was always a little testy about her nationality, and didn't take well to people assuming her ignorance based on her place of birth.

"Oho, nothing, nothing at all. I know lots of Americans. Why, one of my best friend's mother's sister's husband's grandmothers is American. Say that reminds me of a story…" and off he went again on some story.

Gwen just ignored him and walked briskly out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Seven o'clock rolled around and Gwen was about to open the door to the Potions classroom when Tom opened the door.

"You are late."

"Am not."

"Yes, you are, the time is three minutes after seven. Thirty points from Gryffindor."

Tom turned on his heel and walked into the classroom, letting the door hit Gwen in the face.

"So much for being the chivalrous gentleman," she thought bitterly and she rubbed her aching nose.

Gwen looked around the room; it seemed a thousand times more eerie without any other students in the room. And Professor Slughorn, where was he? His office door was closed and the window was dark. Gwen grew increasingly uneasy. So she was utterly alone with Tom Riddle, eh? Scary. But Gwen was Gryffindor's heir, and she therefore must be brave. So she put on a fake smile and sat down next to Tom.

"So, how's life?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He just shoved a copy of his notes into her face.

"Here, read these and then copy them down. I expect you shall find them more accurate than your own. After you are finished, we shall redo today's lesson. Now, if you will excuse me."

He got up and walked around the room, examining some of the artifacts that Professor Slughorn had set out. Gwen looked at his notes.

"Wow, this is a lot of stuff," Gwen thought, eyes wide at the small novel that was Tom's notes.

His handwriting was elaborate and neat, and it leaned slightly to the left. Although she was a speed-reader, there was no way she could get through this in one night. Gwen just pulled out a spare roll of parchment and placed a copying spell on it and Tom's notes. Her blank scroll rapidly filled with his notes, only this time in her girlish scrawl. She then shoved both scrolls in her bag and looked for Tom, who by now was sulking in the corner he was sitting in a chair with his arms cross and looking dour and sour. He didn't even notice Gwen sneak up next to him. She crept next to him and lowered her face to about an inch from his ear.

"Tom, I'm ready for you," she whispered silkily in his ear.

He jumped, clearly startled. He glared at Gwen and stood up slowly, smoothing out his robes in a deliberately controlled motion.

"Did you read all of my notes?" he asked.

"No."

"Why not? You think you are so smart you do not need them? If you are going to take an attitude like that Miss Morrison, then I shall reconsider my most _generous_ offer to tutor you."

Before she had time to answer, he pushed past her and went over to the chalkboard, flipped it over and waved his wand over it. Professor Slughorn's lesson reappeared. Tom then went over to the cabinet and set out a spare caldron on the desk.

"First, I want you to get out all the necessary supplies. Then I want you to follow my notes exactly. If you have any questions, which you should not, because my notes are explicit enough, ask me."

He nodded curtly to her and motioned to the ingredient chest. Gwen stepped up to the cabinet hesitantly. She first took out a vial of frog's blood, and then some mustard oil, followed by some chopped bay leaves. As she reached for the large bottle of hibiscus seeds Tom gently snatched her hand away. His long fingers easily engulfed her small hand. Gwen, despite herself, felt a tingling sensation in her cheeks.

"Not that one. Do you see hibiscus seeds anywhere on the list?" he asked, still holding on to her hand as he nodded to the chalkboard.

Gwen glanced back at the board. Sure enough, hibiscus seeds were nowhere to be found. She could have sworn, though, that they had been there earlier. She tugged free of Tom and squinted at Slughorn's lesson. As she turned to rummage through the cabinet some more, Tom stopped, and looked around, listening to something. He walked over to the door, pulled out his want surreptitiously, and motioned for Gwen to come to him.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

Gwen nodded and reached for her wand from inside her robes. Whatever it was making the noise sounded like a cat rummaging through the garbage for a dead fish. There were odd banging sounds coming from the next classroom, and what sounded like…giggling? Who would be down here at this time of night? One of the ghosts, maybe?

"You stay here and finish working on the lesson. I'm going to investigate that noise," he mouthed to her as he moved to open the door.

He put a quieting spell on the door so that it wouldn't make noise and thereby startle the noise-making…thing. Gwen was slightly put out that he wouldn't let her come with him, but then again, why should he? He was the prefect, not her. And last time she checked, Gwen was pretty sure that Tom didn't trust her. Not that she trusted him, either.

She walked back to the cabinet and set out the rest of her supplies. When Tom didn't come back within five minutes, Gwen's curiosity got the best of her. She crept to the door and slipped out quietly. As she slinked down the cold, stone hallway, her shadow danced along the wall, grotesquely distorted by the lit torches that were sprinkled at various intervals. For the first time in all her years of attending Hogwarts, Gwen noticed that the torch holders were in the shape of a snake.

"How appropriate," she thought. "Snakes live underground, the Slytherin common room and dorm room is underground, and…so is the Chamber of Secrets."

She shuddered at the thought of a basilisk living only a few hundred feet below her, shedding its massive skin and eating who knows what. Gwen, for all her headstrong bravery was deathly afraid of snakes; even the smallest, most harmless garden snake would cause her to run screaming in the other direction. She couldn't even imagine what she would do if she came face to face with the basilisk. She was now at the door to the next classroom, and there seemed to be light coming from inside the classroom. Gwen crouched nearby, listening intently. She could hear Tom's snobbish voice.

"Just what do you think you were doing, sneaking around here? You are supposed to be in your common room studying! I will not tolerate such a disgrace to the House of Slytherin! Who do you think you are, a bunch of Gryffindors?" he lectured two scared-looking first years, who apparently had been bungling their way through their first snogging session.

They shivered under his burning gaze, and nearly hit the roof when Gwen spoke up from behind Tom.

"Hey! That's not very nice! Not all Gryffindor's go around after hours trying to suffocate each other with their tongues. Besides, who'd want to snog in this nasty old dungeon, anyway? I'd much prefer by the lake or someplace warm."

She grinned from ear to ear as she stepped from behind Tom, her eyes full of mischievous laughter.

"I thought I told you to stay where you were. I do not need your help in disciplining students from my own House," he snapped at her, his annoyance clearly showing.

"I did, but you see, a girl can only wait so long. I did everything you said, and when you didn't return, I came looking for you. I thought you might be in trouble and in need of saving."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye coyly. He snorted.

"The day I need you to save me, Miss Morrison, is the day that people walk on water."

"Well, actually there was this one guy, a long time ago—" he interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

"Enough! I will deal with you later. You two—" he turned his laser like gaze back on the cowering first years—" you will serve detention tomorrow morning by cleaning out the owl tower. Be there at six. Do not be late. I have—" it was his turn to be cut off.

Gwen finished his sentence, mimicking his accent and facial expression perfectly, when she said, "—many pressing engagements, and I won't be held up by your tardiness."

The first years looked at her incredulously.

"You should do as he says, little kiddies. You wouldn't want big, bad _Tommy boy_ to turn you into something—" she leaned in for more effect—"_unnatural_."

The two young Slytherins ran screaming from the room, and their thunderous footsteps echoed all the way back to the common room. Gwen brushed he hands together and winked at Tom.

"Well, we showed them didn't we, _Tommy boy_?" she asked as she punched him hard on the arm.

He was a lot more muscular than she assumed, and her fingers went numb from the impact. She grumbled something about hitting a brick wall and shook her hand. Tom just stalked past and returned to the Potions classroom. There they continued the lesson in silence, with the occasional rude put down from Tom. When nine o'clock rolled around, Gwen bottled up her potion and placed it on Professor Slughorn's desk. She then cleaned up her mess by hand, because Tom was watching her like a hawk and wouldn't allow her to magically clean up. As she finished putting the last of the ingredients into the cabinet, Tom cleared his throat.

"I shall walk you back to Gryffindor Tower so that you will not get into any trouble for being out after hours."

He picked up her books from the table and opened the door for her. Gwen passed through and reached out her hands to take her books from him, but he just kept her bag in his hand. As they walked up the stairs, Gwen spoke up.

"You know, contrary to popular belief, I am capable of carrying my own books. You don't have to do that for me."

She reached out again for him to hand her the bag, but he kept on walking.

"I am well aware what you are capable of, Miss Morrison. You would be wise to accept my generosity in carrying this for you. I am quite a bit taller than you, and most likely stronger. This bag is not heavy, and will not impede my walking speed, like it would for you."

And with that he sauntered on. They continued in silence until the reached Gryffindor Tower. At the Fat Lady's portrait, Tom set down her bag and turned to leave.

"Tom! Wait!" Gwen called out after him.

He stopped, turned around, and looked at her.

"Thank you," she said.

He blinked slowly, as though not understanding what she had said. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, and without another word, he descended the stairs.

Ok, the site is not letting me add line breaks, and I'm not happy about it. When they get the problem fixed I'll go back and edit the previous chapters.


	9. Together Again

Chapter Nine

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Together Again**

**_The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt._**

_**-Max Lerner**_

As Gwen entered the common room through the portrait hole, she couldn't help but yawn. It had been a long and exhausting day, and her bed was calling her name. She entered the dorm room and shuffled to her bed. On the bedpost sat Fawkes; it was the first time Gwen had seen him since last night when he had flown out the window, clasping Gryffindor's sword. He cooed softly as Gwen approached. He was such a magnificent bird that Gwen caught her breath every time she saw him. He bowed his head slightly, and Gwen reached out and stoked his feathers gently. They felt soft, like fluffy cotton. She remembered Professor Dumbledore's letter from the morning, so Gwen conjured some cornmeal in a bowl. She placed it on her night table, and Fawkes flew over and nibbled daintily. Turning toward the bed to undress, Gwen noticed for the first time that Gryffindor's sword was lying there, gleaming slightly in the soft moonlight. Next to the blade was its sheath, a dark leather object adorned in golden swirls, which eventually gathered together to resemble a lion's mane. Attached to the sheath was a simple black leather belt. Engraved into the belt were strange symbols that Gwen couldn't read. She'd ask Professor Dumbledore in the morning. Right now, all she wanted was a good night's rest.

Gwen conjured a stand of deep cherry wood for Fawkes to perch, and sheathed the sword. As soon as her hand gripped the hilt, she felt that same strange surge of power; it was like pure energy was flowing through her veins, infusing her with impossible strength. But as soon as she let go, the feeling was gone. Gwen touched the sword again, this time more gently. At first she felt a small tingling sensation, and then as her grip grew firmer, the feeling grew stronger and stronger, almost forcing her to rip the sword out of its sheath with a resounding _shink! _As she did, Emma walked into the room. She gasped softly, startling Gwen.

Gwen turned a bright red, and mumbled, "Uh—hi. How are you?" in a squeaking sort of voice.

She quickly dropped her arm that she had been holding aloft, sword clasped firmly in her left hand. Emma moved from her spot in the doorway and into the middle of the room. She was holding Gwen's note.

"I just read you letter," she said softly, her large, dark brown eyes flicking hesitantly at Gwen. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry that I snubbed you. You did give me a wicked scare though. You should be an Auror with skills like that."

She walked over to Gwen, who was staring at Emma with a slightly cold look.

"Really, why should I take Emma back as a friend if she is so fickle?" a sneaky little voice whispered in Gwen's ear. "Because you'll be miserable if you don't," another, calmer voice said.

Gwen cleared her throat.

"Oh, that's ok. I should have told you before hand that I get a wee bit too excited in dueling. You know, I had the same problem back home, although I never faced anyone near as good as Tom. Oh, and just so you know, I wrote the other girls an apology note as well."

Gwen smiled shyly. She noticed that Emma was looking in awe at the sword, her long hand extended hesitantly, as though she was afraid to touch it least she get burned.

"Is that really Gryffindor's sword?" Emma asked in wonder. "You know I've heard stories about it, but I'd never thought I'd ever see it. I thought it was just a myth."

She looked at Gwen in wonder.

"And I'd never thought I'd ever meet a relative of one of Hogwarts founders; I thought their line's died out long ago."

Gwen felt a small spot of pride for her regal heritage. She really was something special, as her father had told her so long ago.

"Would you like to touch it?" she asked Emma. Gwen flipped the blade over so that it was resting in her right hand.

"Oh, could I?" Emma breathed.

Gwen nodded, and Emma gingery poked a slender finger at it. She softly traced the engravings, particularly Gordic Gryffindor's name.

"Wow, that's amazing!" she exclaimed, hopping up and down.

A huge smile broke over Gwen's face.

"Would you like to meet Fawkes?" she asked, nodding to the phoenix. Emma nodded vigorously.

Gwen called the scarlet bird to her, holding out an arm for him to land on. He fluttered his wings slightly and alighted on her proffered arm. He bowed his head to Emma, indicating that he would allow her to touch him. She gently stroked his feathers, sighing at their softness. When she pulled away Fawkes looked to Gwen, who nodded for him to return to his post. As he flew back to his post, Gwen yawned loudly.

"Oh, sorry, I'm just so tired. I'll see you at breakfast?" she asked Emma hopefully.

Emma nodded, and smiled. Gwen, content that she had at least one friend again, changed into her pajamas and flopped into bed.

The weak morning sunlight streamed through the windows in the Great Hall. Gwen had no morning classes on Saturday, and therefore had the luxury of sleeping in. She tiredly rubbed her eyes, and reached for some milk. She couldn't quite reach it, and so Emma handed it to her. Gwen was once again seated with her friends; Lola and Shalini had made up with her that morning. Despite the exhaustion Gwen felt in her body, a large weight seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders once again. Even Samantha came by the table to say hello, and she was quite amiable to Gwen.

Gwen glanced up at the faculty table, where she caught Professor Dumbledore's eye. He smiled warmly to her, as if to say, " I told you so." Gwen then looked inadvertently over to the Slytherin table. Tom wasn't there, but Isolde and Abraxas were, and when they saw her looking at them, they sent death glares at her. Gwen just rolled her eyes and turned back around.

The familiar sound of flapping wings filled the air; the morning post had arrived, only a little later than normal because it was a Saturday. Each of the other girls received a letter from their parents, inquiring to their well being and encouraging them to study hard. Gwen, however, did not receive any mail. She felt a tad bit disappointed; she had hoped to get another note from Professor Dumbledore. Emma seemed to notice the downcast look on Gwen's face.

"What's wrong, didn't your parents send you anything?" she asked concernedly.

Gwen, who had not yet revealed that she was an orphan, replied, "No. My parent's can't send me anything. They're dead."

She said this with the cold, flinty tone she often adopted when talking about her family. It was always a hard subject.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't know," Emma soothed.

Lola and Shalini looked at Gwen with pity and expressed their condolences.

"How did it happen?" Lola asked.

Leave it to her to ask the hardest question in the bluntest way. Emma and Shalini chided her, but Gwen waved them away.

"Its ok. I guess I'd have to tell y'all some time. They died when I was six. They were killed by an evil wizard because they wouldn't join him."

Gwen looked down into her pumpkin juice, straining not to cry. She hated crying in front of other people; it made her feel weak, and she hated being weak. Emma patted her soothingly on the back. Gwen looked up from her juice, and smiled a strained smile.

"Sorry guys. It's a rough subject for me, even after all these years."

The others nodded in pretend understanding, but in fact, they could never understand how Gwen felt. They had never lost anyone close to them, particularly not at the tender age of six. No one could understand Gwen's loneliness and sense of wanting to belong, to be something special that people would remember, and congratulate; no one could understand her need for praise from other people to try and take the place of the affection that she would have received from her parents. No one understood…well, except one person. But he wasn't there at the moment, and Gwen hardly felt like having a heart to heart conversation with Tom.

Besides, he'd probably laugh at her for having any feelings beyond anger and hatred. _Yet_…maybe that was why Gwen wasn't afraid of him like the rest of the students: she understood him in a way that no one else could. She had been in his shoes, as it were, and therefore understood him. _That's it!_ She understood him, and therefore could not possibly fear him! It may be a cliché, but the statement "people fear what they do not understand" was certainly true. Gwen smiled at this new revelation. She was now starting to understand why she'd been sent back.

"Hey girls, sorry to spoil all the fun, but I've got to go to class. Bye!" Shalini waved as she left.

The other girls soon dissipated to their various functions: Lola to Quiddich practice, Emma to her prefect duties, and Gwen to Professor Dumbledore's classroom. She knocked on the door and entered when he opened it from her. He was wearing some odd looking robes; they were baby blue with clouds that were literally chasing each other. One large, particularly fat cloud cornered a small, wispy cloud and swallowed it. Dumbledore seemed to notice the fascinated expression on Gwen's face as she watched his robes.

"Interesting, aren't they? They were a gift from Professor Slughorn for my birthday."

"Oh, really? That was very nice of him. When is your birthday, if you don't mind my asking, Professor?" Gwen asked pleasantly.

Being around Dumbledore always brightened her spirits.

"As long as you don't ask me my age, I'll tell you. Today's my birthday."

"Oh, well happy birthday, Professor! Sorry I didn't get you anything," she replied.

"Nonsense, what would you get a crazy old coot like me, anyway?" he asked her with a slight hint of mischief.

"Lemmon drops?" Gwen asked teasingly.

Dumbledore laughed a deep hearty laugh.

"Very good Miss Morrison, very good. Now, what can I help you with? Surely you don't have any questions on yesterday's homework?" his eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses.

"No. Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me what these symbols mean."

She unhooked the leather belt that she'd strung over her curvaceous hips. She placed the belt so that it was facing Professor Dumbledore, and set the sword parallel to it. He picked up the leather in his long, bony hands, and held it close to his face, inspecting it. He muttered a few incoherent words into his auburn beard. After a while he finally spoke.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think it is written in some kind of ancient text, most likely early Latin. We'll have to take this to Professor Robbins of Ancient Runes to get an exact translation."

He got up from behind his desk.

"Ready?" he asked.

Gwen nodded and picked up the sword, only this time by the sheath. She didn't want any weird surges of power and to inadvertently hurt someone. She followed Professor Dumbledore through several winding passageways, and nearly collided with Nearly Headless Nick.

"I say! You should watch where you are going, young miss. The never of young people!" he huffed as he floated on.

Gwen snickered slightly and Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. They continued on their way, and eventually found themselves standing outside Professor Robbins' room. A ruggedly handsome wizard answered the door, and Gwen couldn't help but think he looked a tad bit like Indiana Jones, sans whip and fedora.

"Well come in Albus, come in! I wasn't expecting any visitors, but you are always welcome. And who is this?" he looked curiously at Gwen.

"This is Miss Gwen Morrison." Dumbledore introduced.

Professor Robbins' eyebrows shot up.

"Ah, so you are the one I've heard so much about. Well, it is a pleasure to meet you my dear."

He shook her hand warmly.

"Do you care for some tea?" he gestured to a dainty looking silver teapot and cups.

"No thank you," Gwen replied.

Professor Dumbledore, however, consented, and Professor Robbins poured a cup of tea and stirred some honey in it. As Professor Dumbledore sipped on his tea, he chatted amiably with Professor Robbins about such things as the weather, grading papers, and other light topics. Gwen grew antsy waiting for Dumbledore to ask Professor Robbins the meaning of her belt. Why was he taking so long? She was about to say something when Dumbledore set down his teacup, and wiped his mouth with a daisy-covered napkin.

"Well Sean, the tea was lovely, but that's not the real reason we've come to see you. As you well know, this school is filled with strange artifacts from its founders."

He reached for another cup of tea, and sipped from it slowly.

"Miss Morrison has brought to my attention one such artifact."

He set the belt before Professor Robbins, who sat up straight and eyed the belt in wonder.

"So it is true, there really is a belt for Gryffindor's sword."

He looked at Gwen.

"You're very lucky young lady to own such treasures. Tell me, how did you find it?"

"It was lying on my bed last night, next to the sword itself and the scabbard. I think Fawkes must have brought it from somewhere."

She handed the sword, still in its scabbard, to the Ancient Runes professor. He took it from her and examined it with the belt.

"And this fits you?" he asked.

"Perfectly. If you don't mind Professor, could you tell us what the symbols on the belt mean?" she asked him, her stomach churning with excitement.

"Well, as far as I can tell, it's a form of ancient Latin," he said.

"That's why I thought," Dumbledore interjected.

"Yes, but what does it mean?" Gwen was growing more and more impatient.

"Well, as far as I can tell, it's a magical incantation, used to protect the wearer," Professor Robbins replied. "It says:

**_In brightest day and darkest night_**

_**Let those who worship evil's light**_

**_Beware of my power, Gryffindor's might_**

Tell me, Miss Morrison, do you ever feel strange, or odd when you wear this belt?" Professor Robbins asked.

"Not when I wear the belt. When I hold the sword, though, I feel…stronger…like pure energy is flowing through me… What is that supposed to mean?" she looked from professor to professor.

Professor Robbins looked to Dumbledore.

"You're the expert on Gryffindor, Albus. What do you think?"

Dumbledore furrowed his brow, and gentle tented his fingers together.

"I think," he began slowly, picking his words with care, " that Gordic Gryffindor placed some sort of spell on the sword and its accessories, so that his heir, when wearing it, would feel some of the legendary Gryffindor bravery. I think the inscription was meant to be said by the wearer in times of great peril, when all other spells fail."

He looked at Gwen gravely.

"I think that it is time we leave. Thank you, Sean, for the tea and translation, they were much appreciated. Miss Morrison, after you."

He stood up and offered his hand for Gwen to stand up. She took it, and then collected her sword, scabbard, and belt from Professor Robbins. She rethreaded this scabbard on to the belt and slung it low on her hips.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Morrison. You know, it's a shame that you aren't in my class. Albus, you're the head of Gryffindor House, why don't you see if you can get her in? I always have room for another student."

He clapped Dumbledore heartily on the back.

"You could always get me out of Advanced Potions, Professor."

Gwen looked hopefully at Dumbledore.

Professor Robbins chuckled. Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Morrison. Your schedule is set. Sean, we really must go, I've got papers to grade, and I'm sure Miss Morrison has far more exciting things to do than spend her entire Saturday with two old men. See you at supper."

He nodded to the Ancient Runes professor and guided Gwen back to the Transfiguration classroom. Along the way Gwen contemplated all that she had learned.

"Professor, what did you mean that the inscription would work when all other spells failed? Does this have something to do with the basilisk?" she asked as she looked imploringly at the Transfiguration master.

He kept walking, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"I'm not entirely sure, but you may be right. There is one way to find out."

He led her back to his classroom and into his office. Inside were many strange, whizzing silver gadgets that Gwen recognized from when she'd been in the future, standing in what was then Headmaster Harry's office. Atop a shelf sat what looked like a pile of rags, but it was actually the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore carefully removed the hat, and placed it on Gwen's head. She looked at him confusedly.

"Professor, what could the Sorting Hat tell me? I already know what House I'm in."

"The Sorting Hat once belonged to Gordic Gryffindor, and who better to tell us about him than his hat that witnessed his every thought?" Dumbledore asked.

He snapped his fingers in front of the hat, causing it to stir. It yawned sleepily.

"Oh, is it the first of the year, already? I was having such a lovely nap. Wait, who is this? Ah, Miss Morrison, it's good to see you again. Third times the charm, eh? Well, what is it you want to know?" it asked as the tip of it bent down to peer at Gwen.

"I, uh, was wondering, if um, you could tell me the meaning of the rhyme on my belt? You know, the one about 'brightest day and darkest night'?"

She always felt uncomfortable talking to a hat that could read he thoughts.

"Ah! Yes, but of course. I came up with the rhyme myself, you know. Well, that little ditty, one of my finest if I do say so myself, is to protect the wearer, you, in this case, from whatever monster lies in the Chamber of Secrets."

It smiled widely at Dumbledore and winked.

"But I thought that's what the sword was for, why would I need to say that incantation? How would that protect me from the basilisk?" Gwen asked, growing slightly perplexed.

"Oh, so that's what's in there, is it? Nasty little buggers. Well, yes the sword would kill it, but you'd have to stab the snake from behind, to avoid its deadly gaze and that's very tricky business. You know the blighters only come when they're called, and only your Mr. Riddle can do that. So! What you need to do is say the spell when you hear it coming, and it will protect your vision and thereby keep you from dying. Then stab it."

"Thank you, that clears up a lot of my questions."

Gwen took off the hat and looked at it.

"Anytime miss, any time. You know, I may bit a bit rough around the edges, but if you'd like, you could wear me around school sometime. I haven't seen the grounds in quite some time. I'd like to see how they'd changed," it spoke to her.

Gwen didn't quite know what to say. She'd never had to refuse a raggedy old hat to its face before. She looked over at Dumbledore for support.

"Maybe some other time, Monty," Dumbledore said, taking the hat from Gwen and replacing it on the shelf. The hat sighed.

"All right then, next time. Good night!" it smacked its mouth and crumpled back into what Gwen supposed was a sleeping position.

She looked at Professor Dumbledore, not knowing quite what to say. Should she tell him what Dinky had said earlier? He looked at her askance from where he was standing, looking out the window.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Gwen?" he asked quietly.

Gwen heaved a sigh and looked at her watch.

To her surprise, it was only ten o'clock, she was sure that it was later in the day than that.

"Well, you see, I didn't go to lunch yesterday, and instead went to the common room to write my apology letters. Well, as I was sitting there, wondering what to write, this little house elf, Dinky, pops up. She and I got to talking, and she told me that Tom has been sneaking around after hours. She said that he even goes into the girls bathroom in the dungeon. I think he's trying to find a way to open the Chamber, and the entrance is the girl's bathroom on the third floor. Dinky also told me that he is very cruel to the Slytherin house elves and asks them to do 'bad things'. What should I do, Professor?" she inquired as she furrowed her brow and rubbed her head.

Just when she thought she might have a handle on the whole "unite with the heir of Slytherin to prevent total darkness" situation, a new problem cropped up. She was starting to understand why Harry had been so moody back in his youth. Saving the world is hard work.

"Yes, I'm aware of Mr. Riddle's nightly escapades. Dinky has confined in me as well, and has offered her services in spying for me. I'm not usually one for butting into a student's private time, but I think this warrants an exception."

He turned from the window to face Gwen.

"Do you know why put you in Advanced Potions? It's because I knew that you were extremely weak in that area, and that Tom excelled. I knew that Professor Slughorn would want to put you two together once he found out your heritage. That being said, how was your first tutoring session?"

"It was… interesting."

She told him the story about the two Slytherins making out and how she and Tom disciplined them.

"Tom's actually a good teacher, once you get past the snarky put downs. I learned more from him in one two hour session that I've ever learned in all my years of class."

She smiled slightly.

"Did you give him your apology note?" Dumbledore asked.

"Uh, no, not yet. I haven't been able to find the right words to say. I was going to give it to him in our next tutoring session."

"Why don't you let me go over it with you?" Dumbledore sat down at his desk and pulled a chair up to him.

Gwen sat down and pulled out the note from inside her robes. Dumbledore read over the note, and pulled out a grading quill.

"Why don't we take out this sentence here?"

He tapped the note with the quill. After a good bit of editing, both seemed satisfied with the results. Dumbledore glanced at his pocket watch. It was eleven o' clock.

"Care for some lunch?" he asked.

Gwen nodded. Dumbledore pulled a cord next to the window, and Dinky appeared with a loud bang.

"What can Dinky get Professor Dumbledore? Oh! Gwen Morrison is here, too! Would Gwen Morrison like Dinky to get her something as well?" the excitable house elf twittered.

Dumbledore placed his order for the "usual", whatever that was, and Gwen ordered the same thing from the other day. Before Dinky could disappear again, Professor Dumbledore handed her the note.

"Oh, and Dinky, could you make sure this gets to Tom Riddle? You can have one of the Slytherin house elves place it in his dorm for you. That will be all. Thank you."

Dinky blinked her large eyes and glanced between the professor and Gwen.

"Tom Riddle, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Tom Riddle."


	10. Lemon Drops

Chapter Ten

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Lemon Drops**

**_Power is neither angel nor brute, but like man himself, a composite creature, uniting in itself two contradictory natures._**

_**-J.F. Huntington**_

A few more weeks passed, and the cold, blustery days of October came. Green leaves turned to golden and scarlet flame, the air had had extra nip in it, and Gwen couldn't have been busier. Every other day she was down in the dungeon, pouring over a hot caldron, with Tom at her side. On the days she wasn't in tutorials, she was in dueling club practice, not that she needed it.

On one particular day, a day like any other, Gwen woke up feeling particularly melancholy. It was October ninth, her birthday, not that anyone knew or cared. Birthdays, as far as Gwen was concerned, were just an annual reminder that she was one step closer to death. Not a very pleasant thought, no matter how true it might have been.

Gwen swung her short legs over the four-poster bed, shoved the scarlet curtain aside, and jumped the two feet to the ground. Her toes protested at the sudden jolt, but Gwen just ignored the tingly feeling in her feet and proceeded to get dressed. She was running a little bit late, so she just washed her hair and placed a drying spell on it only after she was halfway down the stair to the Great Hall. Emma was already seated and waiting for Gwen. Lola wasn't there due to the fact that she was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and they were having one last practice before today's match against Ravenclaw. Shalini, who was always late, would probably come flying through the door in about five minutes.

"Hiya! Ready for today's Quidditch match?" Emma greeted in her usual chipper manner.

Today Emma had straightened her hair and had tied a scarf of Gryffindor's colors in it. Gwen smiled faintly and plopped down next to Emma. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and stared listlessly at her plate. She wasn't very hungry this morning. Emma, sensing her friend's brooding mood, decided that it would be best to leave Gwen be. Gwen was a strange girl, seeming so strong and confident one minute, and broody and snappish the next. Maybe she'd been spending too much time with Tom Riddle.

At that moment Shalini sprinted in, a slight red coloring to her amber completion. She waved to Emma and Gwen, and immediately started in on her oatmeal, eating like a madwoman. Gwen, who had always had a strange pet peeve about seeing other people eat, looked at Shalini sharply. Must she swallow so loudly? Gwen rapped her left hand on the table, drumming her fingers to some unseen melody, as was her habit. As Shalini slurped up the last of her oatmeal, Gwen let out a much louder than necessary breath of relief. Shalini, ever the happy golden retriever, looked to Gwen.

"Hey! Are you ready for today's Quidditch match?" she asked Gwen.

"Yes," Gwen answered shortly.

Frankly, she'd never seen the excitement surrounding the game; she found most sports, magical or otherwise to be silly and unproductive. Sports, as far as she was concerned, were the bane of human existence. They caused otherwise rational people to act like buffoons and stirred up competition among friends. Sports were useless, almost as undesirable as Potions or math.

"Did you have Quidditch back in America?" Shalini asked, completely oblivious to Gwen's obviously foul mood.

"Yes," Gwen answered again, just as shortly as before.

"Great! Then you can sit with us then. Lola's the seeker; she's really good, one of the best Hogwarts has ever had."

Shalini prattled on and on about how she loved Quidditch and how she wished she could play, but she was afraid of heights. Gwen, for her part, was doing a lousy job of pretending to be listening. Her thoughts were elsewhere, in a place that frankly, frightened her. She was thinking of how the Quidditch match might cut into her tutorials. Over these last few sessions, she'd gotten to know Tom a little bit better through various strategically designed questions. He was incredibly funny, in a dry, morbid sort of way. Throughout their time together Gwen couldn't help but forget, if ever so slightly, that she was in the presence of one of the most evil beings ever to walk the earth. But there was something inside Gwen that didn't want to believe that the boy in front of her would one day attempt to enslave the word, and that was what scared her. How could she forget all the heinous crimes that Tom would commit, including the murder of her own parents?

The bell rang, and Gwen got up silently and stalked to class. Her unusual aloofness concerned her friends, and Emma and Shalini discussed what could be possibly be disturbing their feisty American friend. Emma presented her theory that perhaps Gwen had been spending too much time with Tom Riddle.

It was well known throughout the school that Tom tutored Gwen, after all a rumor that juicy just begged to be spread. Hogwarts was after all, a high school, the proverbial breeding ground for rumors. The Slytherin girls, especially Isolde, took this rumor particularly to heart, and did everything within their power to be as nasty as possible to Gwen. Their jealousy of her spending time with the crowned prince of Slytherin was highly apparent. Although no one ever said it, most of the girls at Hogwarts wanted to spend time with him and possibly catch Tom as a boyfriend. The fact that a Gryffindor, and an _American_ at that, preoccupied so much of his free time really irked the girls. And to top it all off, Gwen didn't seem to be the slightest bit impressed with Tom, after all, it was she who had so savagely attacked him that day during dueling.

Emma and Shalini continued their discussion all the way to Transfiguration, where a breathless Lola met them at the door. They told her how strange Gwen had been acting, and asked if Lola had noticed anything amiss.

"Do you think she has PMS?" Lola asked.

As any woman knows, that "time of the month" can turn even the sweetest young lady into a raving banshee. Emma disagreed, Gwen wasn't showing the usual signs of PMS: an inordinate desire for all things chocolate and sudden random outbursts of tears. No, there was something else to their friend's actions. Any further discussion was cut short as soon as the trio passed through the doors to Professor Dumbledore's classroom. Shalini, Lola, and Emma took their usual seats, and soon after class started.

Dumbledore entered the classroom from his office wearing robes that showed off his Gryffindor pride. He smiled at the class, and announced that today would be a free day due to the impending Quidditch match. Everyone cheered at this, everyone except Tom and Gwen, that is. Both seemed perturbed at the idea of sports intruding into their education. Tom stuck his nose into his textbook and read ahead, while Gwen stared off into space, absently mindedly drumming her fingers. After a space of a few minutes, Gwen got up and walked to the window to look out. The incessant chatter of her peers was giving her a headache, and she needed some space.

She glanced about the room, glowering at the various little clicks. Her eyes then flicked inadvertently to Tom. He was absorbed in the textbook, scanning the page with his unfathomable eyes and furiously turning its pages with long, pale fingers. Gwen stared at him a little longer than intended, because when Tom looked up, his dark eyes met her bright one's for a split second. Gwen held his gaze steadily, but couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. When he glanced down again, Gwen felt an uncomfortable sense of disappointment that he didn't come over and talk to her, but she quickly pushed that aside. Why would he speak to her, here in public? He had his appearances to keep up after all, and talking to her in a friendly manner would soil that image that he had worked so hard to build.

"Contemplating the vastness of the universe, are we Miss Morrison?" came Dumbledore's voice from behind.

Gwen jumped ever so slightly, but quickly regained her composure and turned to her favorite professor with a strained smile on her face. She nodded quickly and attempted a chuckle, but it sounded more like a wheezing cough. Dumbledore, ever the astute observer, sensed that something was uncharacteristically wrong with his prized student.

"Is something the matter Gwen?" he asked gravely, looking very concerned.

Gwen sighed, she was really tired of people asking her that, and it was only the first period of the day. She knew that they only meant well, but their constant concern was highly annoying. Dumbledore, on the other hand, did not annoy Gwen, and she took his concern to heart. So she steeled herself, and prepared to explain to the Transfiguration master the reason for her dour and sour mood.

"It's my birthday, Professor Dumbledore," she answered quietly as she nervously picked at her school robes.

"Then why aren't you happy? Birthdays are always a cause for celebration!" he exclaimed.

"Because birthdays only serve as a reminder that I'm one year closer to my death," Gwen replied a bit harsher than she intended.

"My, my, what a depressing thought, and you're so young! Imagine how an old geezer like me must feel!" Dumbledore answered with a wry smile. "Perhaps you have been spending too much time with Mr. Riddle, hmm?" Dumbledore asked in a lame attempt at humor.

Tom, upon hearing his name used, ripped his eyes from the text that he was still so studiously reading. He looked to where Professor Dumbledore and Gwen were talking. From what he could tell, it seemed like the old Transfiguration professor was trying, and failing, to cheer up Gwen. Tom knew he shouldn't keep listening, after all, what did he care what was bothering her? She was silly and arrogant, and always trying to get him to talk with her nosy questions. But Tom kept listening anyway, unbeknownst to the American and her professor. Perhaps he could learn something that he could later use against her.

"Well Miss Morrison, I still think a birthday is cause for celebration. Now, as a faculty member, I'm not supposed to show favoritism to my students. But since today is your birthday, I don't think my little gift will be considered favoritism."

Dumbledore handed her a small, scarlet velvet pouch tied with a golden chord. Inside were… lemon drops. Gwen smiled a true genuine smile, and thanked the professor. He nodded to her, and went into his office.

Tom sat stone still in his seat. So this was why they were talking, so that Dumbledore could give her lemon drops? And today was her birthday? And she didn't tell anyone?

"That is odd," Tom thought to himself.

He had always considered Gwen to be one of those girls who would tell anyone and everyone all day when her birthday was. The fact that Gwen seemed, almost angry at getting another year older, was…almost what he felt himself. Tom shook that idea from his head. It wasn't getting older that he feared, but death. But he would soon change that.

Gwen glanced about the room; her eyes rested on Tom for the second time that day. He quickly looked away; there was something in her eyes that frightened him. They seemed to cut through to his very soul, reading his deepest desires and longings. Tom didn't want anyone to see that place, a place that seemed too dark even for him. It was as though Tom had two natures in him that were constantly at war. One side had an unquenchable lust for power and violence. The other side, while still dark, wanted something else. That part of him wanted…love and acceptance. But he was Tom Riddle, heir of Slytherin, and Slytherin's don't love.

The bell rang and Tom and Gwen went their separate ways, but not before Tom could stick a small note into her books. Gwen didn't notice the note, not until she was in Defense Against the Dark Arts when she opened her book to read the chapter on boggarts. A small, neatly folded piece of white paper was sticking out of her book. Gwen tentatively opened it and read the contents. In Tom's elaborate scrawl were these words:

_**Miss Morrison,**_

_**Your presence is still required tonight for tutorials; no matter how much revelry the school may be experiencing, our work must continue. I will not have you falling behind any more than you already are. Be there at the usual time.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Tom Marvolo Riddle**_

_**P.S.**_

_**Happy Birthday**_

Gwen stared at the note and reread itseveral times. How did he know it was her birthday? She hadn't told anyone, except Professor Dumbledore… _That little twit!_ He was eavesdropping on her conversation with the professor! Gwen, much to her astonishment, wasn't nearly as angry as she would have thought. Instead, she was almost…happy that Tom had wished her a happy birthday. He wasn't the type to give superfluous complements, not unless it benefited him in some way. There was no way he could possibly benefit from wishing her a happy birthday; she couldn't give him a better grade or improve his status in any way.

The Quidditch match was very exciting, well Gwen supposed it was for those around her due to their incessant whooping and hollering. Shalini was right; Lola was an excellent seeker. As Gwen stood in the Gryffindor stands, she would clap politely every time Gryffindor scored a point, but she really couldn't be more bored. She would have been doing homework, except she didn't have any, due to today's game. Gwen supposed she could have stayed in the common room, but that would have been even more boring.

Gwen scanned the crowd; she was always observing people, even in a public sporting match such as this. There was Isolde, cheering loudly and looking very unladylike, as she hugged—no— strangled Abraxas. Abraxas, for his part, seemed none to pleased at her attention, and roughly shoved Isolde away. Tom, meanwhile, was sitting down, clearly bored.

"Well that makes two of us," Gwen thought to herself.

At that moment, Tom looked over in her general direction. Gwen suddenly became far more interested in the game than she should have been.

"What's wrong with you?" a little voice whispered in her head. "Afraid of making eye contact with your lover boy, again?" it hissed maliciously.

"He's not my lover boy!" Gwen argued back.

"Mm, maybe not yet, but you want him to be, don't, _Little Winnie_?" the voice seemed to almost laugh at her.

"Great, this is just what I need, voices in my head." Gwen thought miserably. "I'm going schizophrenic."

"I believe the correct term is Multiple Personality Disorder. Besides, you're an only child. You're supposed to talk to yourself to make up for the brothers and sisters you never had. And in your case, the friends you never had."

The Voice, as Gwen had dubbed it, seemed to be highly satisfied with itself.

Gwen just shook her head and tried to think of other things; she slipped a lemon drop in her mouth in an attempt to lift her spirits. The lemon drop, however sweet it might have been, did nothing to improve her mood.

"Oh for Merlin's sake! Quit wallowing in your self-pity. What are you, a Mary Sue? Oh, poor little Gwenevere Elizabeth Morrison, the _poor, helpless, friendless, tragic, orphan_ from American! Boo hoo! No one loves her!" The Voice mocked her.

"I am _NOT_ a Mary Sue! I'm not blonde, beautiful, and I don't have big boobs. I may have a tragic history, but I keep that to myself and don't tell anyone and everyone. Plus, no man has automatically fallen in love with me," Gwen retorted.

"That's what you think," The Voice cackled.

Mercifully, The Voice remained quiet after that, and Gwen went back to absent mindedly watching the game. Lola caught the golden snitch and won the game for Gryffindor. There was much cheering and celebration from the winning House, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits. Everyone except Gwen, that is. After congratulating Lola and the rest of the team on an excellent game, Gwen slipped quietly away. She had tutorials tonight.


	11. Roses Are Red

Chapter Eleven

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Roses are Red**

_**Through kindness you can change your fate.**_

_**-Nguyen T. Nguyen**_

Tom waited dutifully in the dungeon, pouring over a book from the library. It was from the Restricted Section, but the librarian loved him, so he was allowed extra access. Really, the entire faculty at Hogwarts was highly impressed with him and would give him just about anything he wanted. Well, everyone except Dumbledore. Ever since they'd first met, Dumbledore kept a sharp eye on Tom, and that highly annoyed Mr. Riddle. After all, who did that old man think he was? Who was he to stand in the way of the greatest wizard of all time? Tom vowed that when he rose to power, the first person he would have executed under his oppressive regime would be that nosy old Transfiguration professor. And who would be the second? Little Miss Morrison, the bane of Tom's existence?

True, she was a formidable foe, but she had weaknesses. She was headstrong and impulsive, while Tom was calculating and manipulative. No matter how strong she was she would never match the power of Lord Voldemort. One day, one sweet day, all mankind would fear that name and bow before him. He would no longer be the common Tom Riddle, oh no, he would be the emperor of the world, and he would rule it with an iron first. He wouldn't be ignored then. He wouldn't have to deal with people who disagreed with him. All would bow before the mighty Dark Lord and tremble in his presence. Even death itself would flee from him.

Consumed with these megalomaniac thoughts, Tom quit paying attention to his book. He shoved it aside; it didn't contain what he was looking for anyway. In fact, nothing in the Hogwarts library contained what he needed: the way to control death through horcruxes. He'd read every ancient tome in the old library and he could only find a few scant mentions of his desired goal. Would that stop him? Ha! He was Lord Voldemort, and he would get what he wanted, one way or another.

Tom glanced at his watch, a "gift" from one of the first years in his House. Truthfully, Tom could never afford a watch such as this, but what he couldn't get by ordinary means, he got through cold intimidation. No one dared refuse him. No one, not even that pure blooded idiot Malfoy, could refuse him.

No one defied him, no one except little Miss Gwen Morrison.

Curse her and her defiant ignorance! Why must she be so…so…independent? Tom snorted at the thought of her. If he hadn't been forced into tutoring her, he wouldn't be around her so much, and therefore would probably not think of her so much. Truth was, she consumed his thoughts almost as much as his meticulously laid plans for world domination. Why did he dwell on her so? Frankly, Tom couldn't figure out why her image would pop up in his brain at increasingly regular intervals. She was no raving beauty, and certainly nowhere near his intelligence level. Yet there was something about her… maybe it was the fact that she had caught on about his heritage when no one else had. Tom remembered vividly how she had whispered in his ear so angrily that day during their duel. How did she know? He certainly hadn't told anyone, especially not anyone in Gryffindor House. He would find out one day, even if he had to rip the information out of her with brute force.

Tom glanced at his watch again. It was five minutes until seven. She would be coming soon. Tom could always tell when she approached; Gwen had a very distinctive walk that separated her from other girls. Well that and the fact that no one else was down here except him. He really didn't know why he had memorized the sound of her footsteps, it's not like that was important. He hoped that she wouldn't traipse in and berate him with more of her insipid questions. What did it matter to her what his favorite color was? Who cares if he liked cookies or not? Certainly she didn't. Maybe Dumbledore had put her up to it, to spy on him in one of the old man's crazy schemes.

For the third time in the space of fifteen minutes Tom looked at his watch. Why was he so antsy? He chided himself. It wasn't like he enjoyed these tutorials, well not exactly. He was generally frustrated at Gwen's lack of potion making abilities, and he really didn't like having to explain something so simple. Simple to him, that is. But then again, everything was simple to him. He had long ago grown bored with the slow pace at Hogwarts. He always wanted more; his lust for information seemed to never be satisfied. Yet, when he was teaching Gwen, he experienced a sort of… happiness when she _finally_ got a concept. No, happiness is too broad a word. Sense of accomplishment would probably more accurate.

The door opened at that moment and in sauntered Gwen. She placed her books in their usual place and went to retrieve the spare cauldron from the cupboard. Only when she had set up as much as she could without Tom's help did she notice that he wasn't standing over her like he usually did. In fact, he was sitting in a chair looking all for the world like a puppy left in the rain. Gwen frowned slightly. Perhaps he was thinking of a way into the Chamber of Secrets. Gwen always kept that possibility at the back of her mind; she would always have to keep up her guard for when that inevitable day arrived.

"Tom? I'm ready now," she spoke in a softer voice than normal.

He stood up to face her, and in an instant his cold mask of indifference was back in place. He flipped the chalkboard with his wand and made the lecture reappear on it. The rest of the tutorial session went smoothly; Gwen seemed to understand the concept well enough for Tom to leave her on her own for a while. He went back to reading, though he didn't know why. The book was useless for his purposes.

As he pretended to read, his mind drifted once again to the girl before him. Why had he written that note to her? He could have just told her that he still expected her at tutorials. But notes were more formal, and he was always trying to be of a higher class than he truly was. So he'd written her a note, big deal. It didn't matter in the long run.

"If it didn't matter, then why did you wish her a happy birthday?" a voice asked in his head. "It's not like you care. _Or do you?_"

"Of course I do not care; it just seemed like the thing to do at the time," Tom argued back.

"The thing to do at the time? That doesn't seem very like you, Tom. You always have a reason for doing something. Maybe you felt sorry for her because she didn't get any gifts, just like you."

The Voice was awfully nosy.

"Why should I care if she received gifts or not? It's not like I am going to giver her anything," Tom replied angrily.

"Maybe you should. It would only be proper," The Voice prodded.

"Why should get her a gift? We are not friends. Besides, what would I get a girl? I have never gotten a girl a gift before. I have never gotten _anyone_ a gift before."

Tom tried to get the Voice to go away, but it persisted.

"You could always get her jewelry. Girls love sparkly things," The Voice replied.

"And where would I get the money to by something 'sparkly'?" Tom snapped.

"Oh! Touchy, are we? Who said you had to buy her anything? You're a wizard, remember? Conjure something!" the Voice retorted.

"How am I supposed to know what she likes? And what if she thinks I _fancy_ her or some other ludicrous idea?" Tom was growing alarmed at this unknown Voice's persistence.

"What's wrong with fancying someone?" the Voice asked innocuously.

"Because I am _Lord Voldemort_ and I do not fancy _anyone_!" Tom retorted, practically leaping out of his seat.

Gwen noticed his unusual agitation; he seemed to be arguing with himself. Had she not gone through the same thing earlier, she probably would have thought he was losing his mind. Then again, anyone willing to rip their soul into pieces to become immortal had to be a few fries short of a Happy Meal. She wondered what he could be debating himself about.

"Probably some dark plan to take over the world," she thought. "Maybe he wanted to use hamsters as attack animals."

Gwen snickered at this idea, and nearly added too much rubidium to her potion. Luckily, she caught herself in time.

She finished up the potion and let it sit for the required twenty minutes. Tom, who had regained his composure, was sitting in his usual chair, pretending to read, again. Gwen soon noticed that he hadn't turned the page in over a minute; that was highly unlike him. She shrugged it off. Maybe he was tired. Being an evil mastermind in training must be exhausting.

After the potion was ready Gwen bottled it up and placed it on Professor Slughorn's desk, as was the norm. She collected her things and prepared to walk back to Gryffindor Tower when she noticed that Tom was still in his seat.

Maybe he's asleep," she mused, though Gwen thought that unlikely.

Tom wasn't the type to just doze off. She quietly approached him and gently tapped him on the shoulder. When he didn't move, she shook him a little harder. Still no response. She sighed exasperatedly. So he wanted to play statue, did he? Well, she would fix that! With a swift movement she smacked him hard on the back, right between the shoulder blades. He whirled around and grabbed her tightly by the wrist. His long fingers felt like ice that burned her skin in not an unpleasant way. He glared at her.

"What do you think you are doing?" he snapped at her.

Gwen could have sworn that for a brief moment his eyes seemed to almost turn red.

"That's scary," she thought.

"You were in some sort of trance; I broke it," she replied when she finally found her voice.

He looked at her angrily for a few more seconds before releasing her hand from his vise-like grip.

"I assume you are finished?" he asked, this time much more composed.

"You know what they say about assume…it makes an ass out of you and me. But to answer you question, yes, I did finish. Will you walk me back to my room? I wouldn't want to get in trouble for roaming the halls after hours."

She smiled at him wryly. Tom didn't say anything else, but took her book bag from her, as was his custom. They walked back in silence, as was also their custom. Tonight there was a full moon and the stars seemed especially bright. Gwen would have loved to have been outside; she loved nights like tonight. However, no matter how much she wanted to walk in the pale moonlight, she couldn't; she had other homework to finish and she was already starting to ache for sleep.

Up, up and up they went; the stairs seemed extra long this night. Maybe it was because she wanted to be outside, maybe that was why she seemed to walk slower tonight. Finally they reached their destination. Tom made like he was going to hand her the bag, but instead, he handed her a single red rose. She looked at him incredulously. What was he doing?

"For your birthday," he said, his dark eyes refusing to make contact with hers.

He moved the rose closer to her, imploring her to take it. Gwen took it slowly, making sure not to disturb any of its delicate petals. He then handed her the book bag and then rapidly disappeared down the stairs. Gwen held the rose up to her nose and sniffed gently. It didn't have a smell to it, nor did it have any thorns. A sly smile started to tug at Gwen's cheeks.

"How very _Phantom of the Opera_," she thought to herself.

She gave the fat lady the password and slipped through the portrait hole. She would keep the rose in her trunk, in a safe place.

"And so he gave me a red rose," Gwen said, finishing retelling her story to Emma and the girls at lunch.

They were listening with rapt attention because Gwen, when she felt like it, could be an excellent storyteller. She didn't know why, but she felt it was important for them to hear what had transpired last night. Usually, she never mentioned Tom or her tutoring, but his strange behavior warranted otherwise.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday? I would have gotten you something!" Shalini exclaimed.

"You didn't ask," Gwen replied as she shrugged her shoulders in indifference.

Why would she burden them with trying to find her a gift?

"But he gave you flowers!" Lola exclaim, doubling back to Gwen's story.

"Shh! Not so loudly! I don't want Isolde and the bitch crew to hear. I have a hard enough time trying to fend them off and deflect the random spells they send at my back. I don't need to give them any more ammunition to hate me."

Gwen glanced around furtively for the Slytherin girls. Unfortunately, Isolde had just rounded the corner when Lola made her outburst. Isolde stopped short, her minions behind her. She advanced slowly from behind Gwen and her crew, Isolde's dark hair swished with her catlike steps. She pulled out her wand, and before Gwen or anyone else could do anything, Isolde cursed Gwen, causing Gwen to topple over the staircase and fall at a rapidly dangerous pace, headfirst.

Gwen frantically tried to stop her motion, but no matter how many incantations she prayed, none worked. The ground was growing alarmingly closer, when all of the sudden, a staircase swung around and Gwen landed on it with an earsplitting _crack! _She screamed in agony; her left leg was twisted at an odd angle and she felt like her chest had collapsed. Her black pants were ripped and blood was gushing from a gaping hole in her knee, the crimson liquid staining the creamy whiteness of her legs. Her femur was sticking out of the skin at a sharp angle, and she was sure her right arm was also broken. She desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but she was starting to loose consciousness. People around her were screaming and running around, and they were becoming increasingly blurry. Tears flowed from Gwen's eyes like a geyser; never in her life had she been in such pain. Suddenly, she felt strong arms encircle her and lift her up as though she were light as cotton candy. She couldn't see the person through her tears, but whoever it was felt oddly familiar. That was the last thing Gwen remembered before she lost consciousness.

An hour later Gwen woke up in the sterile white sheets of the Hospital Wing. Her head ached something terrible, so much so that she had to close her eyes and cry a little bit. When she finally reopened her eyes, she saw the nurse hovering over her. Standing next to her was Dumbledore, looking shaken and very concerned.

"Wh-what happened?" Gwen mumbled slowly, the words feeling thick and heavy on her tounge.

"I'm afraid you took a nasty spill, Gwen," Dumbledore replied slowly, so as not to frighten her.

She looked down at her leg; it was set in white bandages, as was her right arm. She could feel the constricting binding of bandages around her chest and her school clothes had been replaced with a plain white hospital gown. Gwen had to recline back in her bed; it was too much to fast. All she could remember was falling, and then someone picking her up. Well, she did remember whom it was that had done this to her: Isolde Christensen. Gwen hoped that Isolde would get expelled, if she didn't Gwen would make it her personal crusade to make Isolde's life a living hell.

"Here, honey, drink this," said the nurse whose name Gwen didn't know.

She handed Gwen a bottle of Skele-Gro. _Yuck_. Gwen had heard how utterly nasty this potion tasted; she had hoped to never taste for herself. Gwen closed her eyes and tried to swallow the abhorrent liquid down the back of her throat. She nearly threw up just from the smell of it, but threw the sludge down her throat anyway. She gagged and spluttered and shoved the bottle back into the nurse's hands.

At that moment, the doors to the Hospital Wing burst opened, and in walked…Tom Riddle? He seemed almost…upset; his handsome face was a mask of cold fury. He stepped up to Dumbledore and whispered something to the Transfiguration master. Dumbledore nodded and walked briskly out the door. Tom turned to Gwen, and swept a critical eye over her. She stared back at him dumbly; she looked like a little doll in her little hospital bed. He nodded to the nurse and she scurried away. He drew up a chair next to Gwen and sat down, smoothing his robes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like a double-decker bus ran me over, backed over me, and then drove over me again," she whispered.

It hurt to even talk, but Gwen knew that the pain would only increase as her bones grew back together. Tom nodded and picked at his robes unconsciously. He seemed to be distracted.

"I saw what happened, and fortunately for you I was able to reach you in time and bring you here. You passed out on the way. You are lighter than I expected," he said, looking at her intently.

Leave it to Tom to make a rude insinuation about her weight at a time like this.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Gwen asked with a bit of an edge to her voice.

"No! Not at all. I just meat that for a young lady with your figure…" Tom trailed off; he knew he was in dangerous waters.

Insensitive as he was, even he knew not to ridicule a girl's weight.

"Oh, so you've been admiring my curves, have you?" Gwen asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She even tried to chuckle, but soon regretted it due to the raging pain in her chest.

Tom looked slightly distressed at such a bold suggestion; he never thought in _that_ way…well, not very often, at least. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as though to say something, but instead decided to change the subject.

"I know who did this to you, and I want you to know that I have taken care of the situation. As we speak, Miss Christensen is sitting in Headmaster Dippet's office."

He looked to Gwen to gauge her reaction. A shadow crossed her face, but she soon regained her pain-filled vacant expression. Had she been paying attention, she would have noticed that Tom was gazing at her with what could almost have been called…concern. He glanced at his watch; Isolde's meeting with Headmaster Dippet would soon be over. Tom had a few words for the Slytherin girl himself. How _dare_ she impugn the reputation of _his_ House? Tom would not stand for his followers to haphazardly attack people; there had to be a reason and a highly orchestrated method to their attack.

As Tom stood to leave, Gwen touched him lightly on the elbow. He turned around to face her, and she motioned for him to bend down. Her voice was almost gone.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She closed her eyes and grimaced in pain. The Skele-Grow had started working. Tom reached out his hand as though to touch her, but he let it drop. Without another word, he swept out of the Hospital Wing. He needed to have a little chat with Isolde.

**Disclaimer: See profile. This is the only time I'll do this. AND I STILL CAN'T ADD LINE BREAKS!**


	12. Retribution

Chapter Twelve

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Retribution**

**_What then do you call your soul? What idea have you of it? You cannot of yourselves, without revelation, admit the existence within you of anything but a power unknown to you of feeling and thinking._**_  
**-**__**Voltaire**_

Tom paced up and down the emerald carpet in the damp coldness that was the Slytherin common room. He flipped his wand over and over in his pale fingers, as though stirring the air around him. Evening was fast approaching, and Isolde had still yet to show herself, the coward. Tom had planned his speech out to a tee, now all he needed was an adequate punishment for her incompetence. He sat down in his "throne"— a high-backed leather chair that faced the fireplace.

The door to the common room creaked open, and Isolde crept in like a dog that accidentally pooped on the couch. She looked around, and when she didn't see Tom immediately, she let out a sigh of relief and walked boldly to the girl's dormitory.

"Going somewhere, Miss Christensen?" came Tom's cold voice.

She cringed, but walked over to her "master," anyway. She stood in front of him, and nervously played with the wooden bangle on her arm. Tom said nothing, but his cold onyx eyes bored into Isolde, daring her to speak. When she didn't say anything, Tom cleared his throat in preparation to lecture her.

"Care to tell me what you did today?" he demanded more than asked.

"I cursed that little Gryffindor whore," she said with an attempt at confidence.

"And what would be the purpose in that?" Tom asked, completely devoid of emotion.

This did nothing to encourage Isolde, but she was intent on defending her position.

"She's been causing enough trouble for us; I thought I'd take care of it."

"Who gave you the authorization to do that?" Tom asked, his eyes taking on a hungry expression.

His desire to hurt Isolde was growing stronger with each passing moment.

"N-no one. I-I just thought it was a good idea," Isolde whined lamely.

She knew she was in for it, but she was determined not to loose Tom to that pompous little Gryffindor. Isolde wanted Tom for herself, and she would go to any length to achieve her goal.

"You thought it was a good idea, did you? Since when did I give you _permission_ to think?" Tom leaned forward in his chair, his long fingers gripping the armrest tightly.

"Y-you didn't…I…I.." but Isolde never got to finish her sentence.

"That is correct; I did not give you any such authorization. May I remind you that _I _am the one in charge here, and _no one_, I mean _no one _is to do _anything_ without _my_ orders. Do you _understand_ me?" his deep voice boomed throughout the cavernous room.

"Y-yes."

Isolde was trembling with fear. Tom could practically smell her panic, and he relished in it. He got up slowly, and circled around her like a bird of prey would around a rotting carcas. He stood behind her, towering over her, with his face was about an inch from her ear. The dark pools of tar in his eyes were slowly turning crimson. He inhaled sharply, as though to breathe in Isolde's ever-mounting terror.

"Oh, and Miss Christensen?" he purred with malice.

Isolde gulped. This couldn't be good.

"There is no 'us'. There is only _me_, and only what _I_ say and do matter. _You_ are but just an insignificant ant in a long line of workers; you are _nothing_ and will always be _nothing_. I will _not_ belong to _you_ or to anyone else. Forget your delusions of grandeur; I will not be owned. You cannot have me. I will not be your 'boy toy.' Do you understand?" he hissed as he ran a hand through her silken locks, twisting them cruelly in his long fingers.

Isolde nodded, too shaken to speak.

"Good."

He released her head roughly, shoving her forward to the ground. She stayed there, hunched, like a beaten animal. Tom smiled brutally, feeling an enormous sense of power. Without another word, he flounced off to his dorm.

Excruciatingly bright sunlight streamed in the arched windows of the Hospital Wing and Gwen sighed with exasperation. She had been up all night due to the pain from the Skele-Grow. The bags under her eyes were so large that a house elf could have fit in them. The nurse with no name was nowhere to be seen, and Gwen really needed to use the restroom, but she didn't know if she would be able to stand without support. Gwen glanced about for her wand; it wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Damn it!" she cursed grouchily.

She closed her eyes in frustration; not only did she really need to pee, she was hungry, tired, and still very weak. Why did this have to happen to her? She would have been very glad if it was Isolde Christensen lying in the Hospital Wing and not herself. But moping about and wishing weren't going to solve anything.

"Guess I'm not so invincible, after all," Gwen thought to herself.

Truth was, she had grown cocky and complacent due to the beautiful sword that hung at her waist and her excellent dueling powers. Perhaps this had been a wakeup call for Gwen to realize that no one is without his or her vulnerabilities, and that she needed to quit thinking that she was unbeatable. Even Superman has his kryptonite.

The door to the nurse's office opened and out came the dowdy middle-aged lady. She smiled at Gwen kindly.

"How are we feeling today? Much better I hope."

She patted Gwen rather roughly on the head. Gwen twisted away from her, and sent her a look so deadly it could have sent a basilisk crying all the way home.

"I need to go to the restroom. Is there one near here?" Gwen asked, her Texan accent all of the sudden painfully thick; she had managed to loose part of it during her stay in Scotland for all this time.

The nurse nodded and helped Gwen sit up. After steadying herself, Gwen stood up, but instantly sank back down on the bed. She shook her head to relieve herself of the feeling that the room was whizzing past, and forced herself back on her feet. The nurse helped her limp to the restroom, and once Gwen had finished her business, she looked at herself for the first time since the "accident."

"Holy crap! I look awful," she thought to herself as she stared back at her reflection.

Her hair was in a wild tangle and her bangs were standing straight up, giving her a peculiar resemblance to Edward Scissorhands, minus the albino completion and leather jumpsuit. Her makeup had completely worn off, although there were remnants of smeared eyeliner and half caked mascara. She was paler than normal; she seemed to be a slight shade of gray. Gwen poked and prodded at her face. This called for some serious magic.

An hour later Gwen emerged from the bathroom looking like nothing had happened. She'd taken a shower, which did wonders to improve her motor skills and overall disposition. Her hair actually looked like it belonged on her head instead of on the back of a Rodent of Unusual Size (ROUS) and her makeup didn't look like it had been sand blasted off with a…sand blaster. She summoned her school clothes from the back of the chair next to her bed and dressed herself; the nurse had been kind enough to removed the caked blood and repaired the rips in them. Gwen walked to the nurse, thanked her for her kind attention. Then Gwen realized that she didn't know where her books were. She couldn't remember if she'd still had them in her hands when she fell.

As though reading her thoughts, the nurse said, "Oh, don't worry about your school things, dear, that nice Mr. Riddle retrieved them for you. He gave them to Professor Dumbledore, who coincidentally would like to see you as soon as you feel like it. It must be nice to have such a lovely boyfriend. And so handsome too!"

The nurse beamed at Gwen, who all of the sudden felt like she would retch.

"He's not my boyfriend," Gwen seethed, as though that were worse than falling ten flights of stairs and nearly breaking every bone in her body.

"Oh! Well, I just assumed—" the flustered nurse stammered.

"Yeah, well you know what they say about assume," Gwen retorted before swiftly turning on her heel and slamming the door on her way out.

The nurse was left standing in the middle of the large Hospital Wing, looking quite taken aback. She'd had young girls become embarrassed at the mention of a member of the opposite sex, but she'd never seen someone get so angry at the mention of a perceived relationship before.

"Ah, Gwen! Glad to see you up and moving about. I'm sure you must be famished. Would you care for some late breakfast?" Dumbledore greeted her upon her entering his classroom.

Her period with him had already passed, and the assistant headmaster had a free period before he taught the first years. She agreed to sit and eat with him; she hadn't realized how hungry she was until he mentioned it. Dumbledore pulled the cord next to his desk, and as had happened previously, Dinky appeared with a loud crack.

"Oh, Miss Gwen Morrison is alive! Oh, Dinky was so worried about her; Dinky had heard what had happened. Dinky hopes that nasty Slytherin girl gets expelled!" she squeaked as she tearfully blew her nose on the drapes.

Gwen tried not to laugh; she didn't want to insult the well-meaning house elf, but the situation really was comical. Instead, Gwen twisted her lips into a half smile, half laugh. Dumbledore seemed to be having the same difficulty, and the expression on Gwen's face did nothing to help him. So he coughed, and tried to look quite stern.

"Dinky, Miss Morrison would like some breakfast. I want you to bring her anything she asks, is that clear?" he ordered the house elf.

"Oh, yes, of course Dinky will bring anything Gwen Morrison wants, anything at all! What does Gwen Morrison want?" asked the eager house elf.

"First, I want you to start calling me Gwen, just Gwen, there's no need to use my full name. Second, some scrambled eggs, potato cakes, and pineapple sounds really good at the moment."

Gwen smiled kindly at the little house elf.

"Oh, and some cranberry juice to drink."

Dinky nodded vigorously and disappeared the same way she entered. As soon as she was gone, Gwen snickered ever so slightly. Professor Dumbledore joined in, and they both had a good laugh. After they had subsided, Dumbledore reached behind his desk and pulled out Gwen's book bag, which contained her wand and her sword as well. He handed it to her, and she took it gratefully. Other than a few nicks here and there, her things were just as she left them. Gwen thumbed through her homework, and extricated her assignment from two days ago and handed it to the Transfiguration master.

"Here's my homework. Did I miss anything important?" she asked, eager to start climbing what she knew would be a massive mountain of homework, if not in Transfiguration, than in her other classes.

"Oh, no, don't worry about my class, Miss Morrison. I have talked to your other professors, and they have agreed to go light on you due to the seriousness of your injuries. I just want you to know that Miss Christensen is being dealt with accordingly," Dumbledore soothed.

"I hope she gets expelled," Gwen grumbled.

"Now Gwen, I know you may not care for Miss Christensen, but you need to at least be civil to her. She is a prefect and therefore you must show her respect," Dumbledore said with finality that Gwen dared not rebuke.

At that moment Dinky appeared, tottering with a steaming plate of breakfast for Gwen. Gwen hungrily wolfed down her meal, only pausing long enough to pat Dinky on the head as thanks. After Gwen had finished her breakfast in record time, she turned once again to Professor Dumbledore. She had a few questions about her "accident."

"Professor, what exactly happened yesterday? I remember Isolde cursing me, and then falling for a long time, and then indescribable pain. Everything else is really fuzzy," Gwen said as she furrowed her brow, trying to remember.

"Well, for not being able to remember, I'd say you know the story quite well. As you were falling, your friend, Miss Lyons came and got me. She was terribly shaken, and it took me longer to get her to calm down and tell me what was happening. I'm afraid that took up precious time, and I couldn't get to you in time. By all accounts, the stairs seemed to be aware of what was happening, and decided to stop your downward spiral of their own accord. Then, as I'm sure you're quite aware, you were in quite a state. At that time, our illustrious Mr. Riddle, who had witnessed the entire proceedings, leaped over the railing of the stairs, enchanted your leg to stop bleeding, scooped you up, and brought you promptly to the Hospital Wing. He gave me your books, which I have now returned to you," Dumbledore motioned to indicate the return of the books in question.

"What…what did he do with Isolde? Because when he came to see you when you were with me in the Hospital Wing, he stayed after and talked to me. He told me that Isolde was being dealt with; that he had personally seen to that. What did he mean? I always thought he'd be one to protect his own and hypocritically punish others," Gwen asked, although she wasn't sure she really wanted an answer.

Dumbledore looked at Gwen with a slight bit of surprise; he didn't know Tom had stayed and talked with her. That certainly explained why he was uncharacteristically late to the meeting with Isolde, Professor Slughorn, Headmaster Dippet and Dumbledore himself. A small smile threatened to show itself at Dumbledore's mouth, but he maintained an impassive face. Tom was starting to change, if ever so slowly, and so was Gwen, not that either of them would admit it. Gwen cleared her throat slightly to indicate that Dumbledore hadn't answered her question. He looked at her curiously. What had she asked? Oh, yes, she wanted to know what Tom had done to Isolde.

"Well, as to what Mr. Riddle did to Miss Christensen outside of my circle of influence, I can only imagine. But I do know that he literally dragged her up to me and demanded that she see Headmaster Dippet. He seemed almost…" Dumbledore searched for the right word; he wanted to say concerned, but he figured that wouldn't go over well with the hot-tempered girl sitting in front of him.

Gwen, however, was quite oblivious to Dumbledore. She was staring at a small piece of folded white paper. It was another note from Tom. Gwen hesitantly put it back into her bag; she would read it later, out of the presence of Dumbledore. She quickly thanked her favorite professor and scurried to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Hey guys, I'm gonna be gone this weekend and I won't be able to update on Monday, so I'm posting Friday's chapter today and then Monday's chapter tomorrow.


	13. I Spy

Chapter Thirteen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**I Spy**

**_I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble._**

**_-Helen Keller_**

Night fell and all was quiet in the Gryffindor common room. Gwen sat alone on her bed, quietly staring off into space. Next to her lay five unwrapped packages, one from each of her friends. Emma had sent a lovely golden bracelet with intricately swirled designs studded with large drops of amber. Lola had sent a small handbag made of fine ruby and gold silk, while Shalini sent a whimsical sea foam green silk scarf studded with iridescent beading that brought out the slight hint of blue in Gwen's intense eyes. Abigail Radcliff, Gwen's old pal from the first day in Potions, sent a simple hair clip with peacock colored stones set in it. And finally, Samantha Joel, Ravenclaw prefect, sent a pair of aquamarine colored chandelier earrings.

The whole thing reeked of Emma's doing, and Gwen supposed she should have been grateful. After all, it had been a long time since she'd received anything remotely close to the exquisiteness of her gifts, but she couldn't help but feel a little bit miffed. She assumed that the gifts were supposed to be a sort of get well present; she'd discovered them on her bed when she returned to the common room for the first time since the "accident." But there was something about people sending her gift on account of her misfortune that bothered her. She didn't want anybody's pity, and to her, these gifts represented pity. Even if they weren't sent on account of her stint in the hospital wing, and the presents were a belated birthday gift, Gwen still considered them pity gifts.

She sighed and stood up, stretched, and walked over to Fawkes, who was resting, his delicate head tucked gently into his magnificent wing. He raised his head, almost as if he expected Gwen to approach him. He ruffled his feathers and cooed at her affectionately. Gwen smiled and petted him, gently stroking his silky feathers with kind fingertips. She was very fond of Fawkes, and pampered him in everyway possible. If he were a normal bird he would have been quite fat, but since Fawkes was a phoenix, he wasn't prone to gaining large amounts of weight.

Suddenly, Fawkes let out a shrill chirp, and flew to Gwen's trunk. He struck the top of the trunk with his golden talons, pleading for Gwen to open it. She looked at the phoenix with confusion, but flicked her wand and opened the trunk anyway. The scarlet bird dived into the trunk, and pulled out the Marauders Map in his curved beak, while alighting on the Invisibility Cloak. Gwen carefully pulled the map from Fawkes.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she whispered as she taped the map with her wand.

Slowly the dark stain of ink swirled onto the tattered parchment. There were hundreds of moving dots on the paper, one for each student, ghost, and faculty member. Inside the Great Hall was a large concentration of dots; tonight was dueling practice for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. She would have been down there with them, instructing her fellow housemates, but Dumbledore had insisted that she take the night off. What caught her attention, however, were the Slytherin's dots. Instead of being in their common room like they should have been, it seemed as though two dots at a time were moving, like ants on a scouting mission. They were making their way up to the fifth floor before they literally disappeared off the map.

"They're going into the Room of Requirements," Gwen instantly surmised.

She looked over a Fawkes with a sense of growing anticipation.

"Is this what you wanted me to see?" she asked him.

His golden eyes burned brightly and he blinked slowly and bobbed his head. Gwen glanced back at the map; the last two tiny black specks to leave the dungeon were labeled Abraxas Malfoy and Cyrnic Diggory, a Hufflepuff.

"That's odd," Gwen thought to herself. "What would such a sweet boy and a Hufflepuff like Cyrnic be doing with Abraxas and his crew? Unless…oh, God, no! Tom's going to use Cyrnic as practice! The Death Eaters…" but she never finished her thought.

She quickly threw on the Invisibility Cloak, shrunk it down to size, least she trip and reopen the still sore injuries from yesterday, and ran at full speed out the portrait hole. Fortunately the map showed her a shortcut to the fifth floor. If she hurried, she could be there within a minute's time. She just prayed that she would be fast enough.

Gwen flew down the stairs, and was able to reach the entrance to the Room of Requirements just as Abraxas was shoving a terrified looking Cyrnic into the room. Abraxas cast a sharp glance around the seemingly empty corridor and Gwen worried that he could sense her presence. She gulped and tried to slow the made race of her heart. Her fingertips brushed the hilt of her sword, and the cool metal seemed to calm her a bit. She scampered in just as Abraxas strode into the room, and she was nearly hit by the massive stone door, but she managed to get by unscathed.

All the sixth and seventh year Slytherins were there, along with a smattering of a few underclassmen. Gwen even managed to spot one or two first year students. They were all huddled around a raised platform, and atop the platform sat a large, high-backed, emerald green leather chair. Behind the chair was an elaborately decorated tapestry of the Slytherin crest. Tom sat, tall and proud in the chair, his lean legs crossed leisurely in front of him and his black robes fanned out behind him like a great set of wings. The flickering light of the black candles that were dotted throughout the room danced on his angular face, making him appear all the more sinister and unspeakably gorgeous. Despite herself, Gwen found herself completely mesmerized by him. He looked like a vampire from those old movies: tall, mysterious, sensual and fatal.

The spell was broken when Abraxas stepped up to Tom, dragging a quivering Cyrnic behind him. Gwen's eyes widened in horror as Abraxas threw Cyrnic at Tom's feet, like an animal about to be sacrificed in a ghastly pagan ritual. Abraxas callously kicked Cyrnic in the back before laughing his little arrogant laugh. Cyrnic crouched on the platform, his broad chest heaving and his normally rosy complexion ashen. Tom looked down his long nose at Cyrnic with an unreadable expression. The room was quiet as a tomb as everyone waited for Tom to say something. His black eyes roved about the room, and for a fearfully long second, they rested right where Gwen was hiding, but then he returned his gaze to Crynic.

"Do you know why you are here, mudblood?" he asked frigidly.

Cyrnic gaped and shook his head tremulously. It was all Gwen could do to keep her cool; she hated seeing such a decent person cowed like an animal. She clinched her small fists and gritted her teeth. It would do her and Cyrnic no good for her to rip off the Invisibility Cloak with a flourish and attempt to save Cyrnic like Robin Hood would Maid Marion. No, she would wait for her chance, create a diversion and then get Cyrnic out of there as quickly as possible. The problem was what could she use to distract all the people around her? As if on cue, Tom provided the answer: spiders.

He stood up, and with a lazy flip of his wrist, conjured up a few cages with some large spiders in it. A few of the girls screamed, including Isolde, but they were quickly silenced with one withering look from Tom. He then conjured some iron chains on the wall and secured Cyrinc with them.

"Well, mudblood, since you are obviously incapable of answering my simple question, I shall enlighten you. You are here because you are inferior, and you do not belong in such a prestigious environment such a Hogwarts. You think that because you are a prefect you are better than others, but this simply is not the case. You are here because of your influence, and I use that term lightly. I want you to be my messenger; you will tell the others of your kind whom they shall fear: me. I am more powerful than any of you can possibly imagine, and all shall bow before me. Do you understand? And lucky you, Mr. Diggory, you are the first individual to witness just a small fraction of what my followers and I are capable of. So, as a demonstration, we shall use these spiders here to practice on, and then we will give you, a little taste of my power for yourself. I will show you real power— the power of the Dark Arts. Now for the demonstration," Tom said as he finished his speech that would have made a James Bond villain proud.

He stepped up on the podium and pointed his wand at the largest spider.

"Crucio!" he bellowed.

The spider contorted itself into a ball as it tried to escape the torturous curse. Gwen took this opportunity to create anarchy.

She waved her wand slightly and whispered, "Engorgio!"

All of the spiders, even the one under Tom's spell, swelled to the size of a small horse. Screams erupted around the room as the massive spiders began to stomp on people and everyone crowded to the door.

"Mission accomplished," Gwen muttered, and she leapt past several people as they frantically dashed out of the way of the juggernaut-like spiders.

Gwen had made sure to keep the large spiders firmly in her mind; as long as she imagined them in their altered state they would stay that way. Tom was attempted to regain order, but it was no use, everyone was concerned about saving their own skin and didn't pay him any heed.

"What happened?" he hissed at Abraxas.

Abraxas was too shaken to say anything, and Tom backhanded him harshly, breaking the blonde's nose. Abraxas wailed in pain and fled, while Tom whirled on the stampeding spiders and muttered some intelligible spell as he swung his wand over his head like a lasso. However, just as white sparks spat from the end of his wand, Gwen release an invisible force field from her wand, thereby protecting the spider. Tom's spell bounced off the force field and hit him square in the chest, sending him flying back into his chair where he toppled over, legs flailing in the air. When Gwen was sure that he wouldn't get up, she raced over to Cyrnic, released him from his chains and pulled him under the Invisibility Cloak with her. He nearly screamed when he felt her grab his arm, but Gwen clamped a hand over his mouth.

"_Hush_!" she chided.

Cyrnic nodded, wide-eyed and completely breathless. Gwen then released the spiders from their gargantuan state, performed the stupefying spell on the last of the Slytherins at the door and shoved Cyrnic out into the hall. She then hauled him down the stairs and onto a landing. When the last few students had whizzed past, she ripped off the cloak and looked at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked with concern.

The impishly cute Hufflepuff looked incredibly shaken and his hands wouldn't stop fluttering at his side. He thanked her when he finally found his voice. He pulled her into a tight hug, and Gwen could have sword he was crying. She patted him awkwardly on the back and attempted to soothe him, but the only thing she could think of to say was "It's alright, it could have been worse." Not exactly the most reassuring of words, but she at least tried to show some kindness. When he had regained his composure, Gwen pulled away.

"You know that you must never tell anyone that I saved you; it could only harm you more. Instead, you must let Tom think that one of his own turned on him. Do you understand? This must remain between us," she stated emphatically.

Cyrnic looked like he was going to protest, but Gwen stared him down. He finally consented and gave Gwen one last hug before returning to his common room. Gwen smiled to herself, before she blanched. She had only two minutes to get up to the Gryffindor common room before dueling practice ended. Leaping over the railing, she ran back up the stairs and only paused for breath to speak "Rosebud" to the fat lady. The portrait hole opened, and Gwen hurried up the stair and shoved the Invisibility Cloak back into her trunk.

"Mischief managed," she breathed as she whapped the map with her wand.

The ink disappeared, and she put the map back in its place next to the cloak. Gwen was still breathing hard, but she smiled despite the sweat under her neck from where her hair was plastered down. Fawkes looked at her approvingly; like he had planned the whole thing and she had made him proud. He almost seemed to wink at her.

"We did a pretty good job, didn't we, old boy?" she asked the phoenix affectionately as she disrobed.

The sounds of the older Gryffindors entering the common room reached her ears, and Gwen made a swift exit to the bathroom. There she could take a shower and remove any signs that she had just completed her first "special ops-style mission." Yes indeed, she was quite proud of herself. She should have realized that her "mission" was far from over; it had barely to begin.


	14. Find Out The Truth

Chapter Fourteen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Find out the Truth**

**_When in doubt tell the truth._****_  
-_****_Mark Twain_**

"Mr. Malfoy, a word with you please," Tom asked in his most deadly polite voice.

Abraxas flinched but followed the "master" into the Slytherin common room from the sixth year boy's dorm room. His nose was still broken and his robes were caked with dried blood, but the pale blonde boy refused to go to the Hospital Wing. He didn't want to have to explain his appearance, and he was even more fearful of what Tom would do to him if he sought medical help. Abraxas had never seen the torture curse performed before; naturally, he had heard of it in whispers and legends, but having seen first hand the effects the curse and knowing Tom's bottomless anger, Abraxas thought it best not to publicize his injuries. Besides, women love to coddle injured men, and Abraxas could always use his broken nose as an excuse to get what he wanted from one of the girls.

"Sit," Tom commanded.

Abraxas gingerly sat down, his watery gray eyes fixed on Tom. The Slytherin heir interlaced his abnormally long white fingers together and leaned forward.

"Just _what_ were you trying to accomplish? Were you trying to be funny? Did you _think_ that it would be humorous to make a _fool_ out of _me_? _Hmm_?" Tom asked as he leaned farther forward and stared into Abraxas's eyes.

Abraxas could feel the odd sensation of Tom reading his mind, and he was helpless to stop it. He tried to look away, but Tom's gaze was so intense that he just couldn't. Abraxas gulped uncomfortably. After a while, Tom sat back in his chair. He brushed a pale hand through his wavy jet-black hair and looked down, mumbling to himself. Abraxas remained motionless. Tom looked up wearily and smiled venomously.

"You may go now, old _friend_. I know that you would never betray me," Tom said as he stood up and motioned for Abraxas to stand as well.

Abraxas stood up warily and turned to leave, but Tom stopped him. Abraxas turned back around hesitantly.

"Yes, master?" Abraxas asked with trepidation.

Tom squeezed Malfoy's shoulder in what should have been a friendly gesture, but Tom harshly pinched the muscle in between the shoulder blade and the neck. Abraxas winced, but Tom only pinched harder.

"Mr. Malfoy, do me a favor, will you? Find out who sabotaged my plans. I will _not_ be made a fool of again, or I will make _you_ the fool. Do I make myself clear?" he murmured.

Abraxas nodded and swallowed hard; his throat was completely dry.

"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy? Wipe that blood off your shirt. I will not have my followers going around in filth," he purred as he released Abraxas from his grip and waved his wand.

Abraxas howled in pain and grabbed his nose. It was healed.

"You are welcome," Tom said smoothly.

That night Gwen couldn't sleep. It wasn't because of nightmares or that she was worried about her grades, or that she missed her family. No, the reason she couldn't sleep was because her mind was in a constant loop; she kept replaying the events of the past two days over and over and over again. It seemed like ages ago she was in tutorials with Tom and he had given her that rose. She still had it tucked away safely in her trunk, and no matter how many times she thought of disposing of it, she just couldn't. She was highly alarmed at Tom's seemingly rapid change of emotions; one minute he's almost romantic, the other, disturbed and fidgety and then most recently, in full scale Dark Lord- in-training mode. What if her presence, instead of helping him, was actually forcing him into madness? Could her mere existence actually make him become Voldemort? Was she apart of some tragic self-fulfilling prophecy?

"_Damn it all to hell!_" she thought exasperatedly.

She flopped over onto her side and shoved the curtain aside. She needed to talk to someone. Quickly throwing on some clothes, Gwen dug around in her trunk and looked for a piece of parchment. Unfortunately she was getting very low, and she only had enough rolls to last until the next delivery to the school. Wait! She found a piece of white folded paper. She opened it up to make sure that there wasn't already anything important written on it. Her eyes instantly recognized the sloping swirl of Tom's handwriting. It was the note that he had put in her books, and she hadn't read it yet. She hesitated to read past the formal address; what could that black-hearted demon have to say to her that she could possibly want to read? Yet, she couldn't stave off her curiosity. She read on.

_**Miss Morrison,**_

_**Let me start off by saving how truly regrettable the circumstances surrounding this correspondence are. Had I known that Miss Christensen was incapable of keeping her petty feelings in check, I can assure you that this most unfortunate incident would have been avoided. Please be advised that I have taken care of the situation, and if Miss Christensen causes you any more harm please let me know and I will deal with her to the best of my ability. I will not tolerate such childish behavior in my House.**_

_**Sincerely, Tom Marvolo Riddle**_

**_P.S._**

_**Your progress in Potions is most encouraging. If you continue to work hard, perhaps you will be an average student without my help.**_

Gwen read the note over again. This was the second time within two days that he had written to her and complimented her, albeit in a rather backhanded way. The letter did nothing to ease her fears that she was somehow causing him to accelerate his desire for world domination. The veiled threat against Isolde especially caught her attention; however much Gwen might have wanted it to happen, she knew that revenge was not the best policy. She had encountered the pain and emptiness that went with vengeance, and the dissatisfaction and loneliness that followed. She wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Tom.

Gwen's hand reached for her wand; she was about to wipe the ink off Tom's note and write her message over it, but something stayed her hand. He really did have beautiful handwriting, and she could always transfigure one of her old papers and write on that. She carefully tucked his note back into her trunk, next to the previous note and the rose, which looked mysteriously pristine despite its lack of water, soil, or sunlight. Shrugging it off Gwen took one of her old papers, quickly transfigured it to a blank sheet and scrawled a note to Dumbledore on it asking him to speak with her immediately. She looked at her watch; it was almost two in the morning, and she knew that she couldn't get to the owlry without the Invisibility Cloak.

She thought about sneaking out, but she was in no mood for theatrics. Instead, she glanced at Fawkes, who was sleeping peacefully on his perch. He was starting to molt, and it would only be a matter of days before he reincarnated himself. Besides, the thought of treating such a magnificent bird like a common post owl bothered Gwen. Instead, she thought of the fastest way she could get her note to Dumbledore: Dinky. Gwen padded quietly to the bathroom and placed a sound proofing spell on the door so that the loud crack of Dinky appearing wouldn't wake anyone.

"Dinky? Dinky! Can you hear me?" Gwen whispered to the dark.

The familiar loud crack sounded, and Dinky appeared in a small nightgown and a small candle in her tiny hand. The house elf rubbed her large eyes tiredly.

"Did you call for me, Gwen Morr- Gwen?" she asked sweetly.

Gwen nodded and handed Dinky the note, saying, "Give this to Professor Dumbledore immediately. I don't care what you have to do to wake him up, just do it. Tell him I'll be in his classroom."

Dinky stared at Gwen nervously.

"I know what you are thinking, Dinky, that I'm crazy for wanting you to wake up a professor and for being out of bed after curfew. But this is of the utmost importance. You must get Professor Dumbledore. _Please_," Gwen pleaded.

Dinky looked down for a moment, but then she nodded her curly head vigorously and disappeared again. Gwen sighed with relief, and turned to remove the soundproofing spell from the door, when Dinky reappeared again.

"Professor Dumbledore asks that you come with Dinky," the house elf squeaked.

Gwen looked quizzically at her, but nevertheless turned back around and walked to the little elf. Dinky grabbed onto the hem of Gwen's pants, and both house elf and student disappeared. To say that the sensation that Gwen felt was odd would be an understatement. It felt very similar to when she had first traveled back in time; she was simultaneously compressed and stretched, like silly putty out of a tube. Fortunately, this feeling was nowhere near as painful, and the sensation ended as soon as it started. They were in Dumbledore's office, and the older wizard was sitting at his desk, dozing slightly in a baby blue nightgown. He had a nightcap perched on his auburn head, and the small, puffy white tassel hung in front of his crooked nose, and would flutter slightly with his light snoring.

Gwen cleared her throat slightly, and he awoke with a start. Dumbledore looked around for a few seconds, slightly dazed, but when he saw Gwen, he straightened his nightcap and motioned for her to sit down. Dinky disappereated back to wherever the house elves slept.

"Well, Miss Morrison, what is it you want to discuss with me that couldn't wait until the morning?" Dumbledore asked with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice.

Gwen shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't realized how silly her ideas were before now, and she had woken up her professor just so that she would feel better.

Feeling rather stupid, Gwen mumbled, "I'm worried about Tom. I mean, I'm supposed to be here to help him and all that jazz, but it seems like I'm just giving him fuel for the fire, so to speak. I think I might be harming him more than helping."

Dumbledore looked at her inquiringly before asking, "What do you mean when you say you think you are harming him? If I remember correctly, it was Tom who carried you to the Hospital Wing the other day. If you weren't helping him, he would have probably walked right past you and let you bleed to death."

Gwen considered this for a second; she had just assumed that he helped her because he was a prefect and he considered it a part of his duty to take her to the Hospital Wing. She never thought that he helped her because maybe, just maybe, he cared for her a little bit. But that idea was even more frightening than her theory that she was egging him on to his doom. She frowned slightly. If he was changing for the good, then why was he having secret Death Eater meetings in the Room of Requirements and threatening to torture fellow students? Gwen hesitated; she didn't want to tell Dumbledore what had happened that night with the spiders and Cyrnic, but really, she had no choice if she wanted to appease her worried mind.

"Um, well you see… Today… I…today I found Tom having a secret meeting in the Room of Requirements, and um, he was, well… he threatened to torture Crynic Diggory because he was a 'mudblood,' and well you see, I…" Gwen trailed off as was her habit when she was frustrated on how to tell a story.

"When was this? Perhaps you should start from the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened, and take your time. This is a very serious allegation," Dumbledore replied gravely.

Gwen heaved a sigh and raked a hand through her tangled bed head hair. She knew she must look something awful, but right now, she really didn't care. She told the story of how she was petting Fawkes when he flew to her trunk and how he had gotten the Marauder's Map for her. She had a hard time explaining what the map was, but Dumbledore got the gist of it and urged her to continue. She explained how she had raced down to the fifth floor and made it into the Room of Requirements, but left out the part about how alluring Tom had looked. She repeated Tom's little speech in a way not unlike the way it was originally delivered, and told of how she managed to save Cyrnic by transforming the spiders and causing chaos. She also mentioned how Tom had brutally broken Abraxas's nose, and how she was afraid that Tom would find out what she had done and punish Cyrnic for it. She also told Dumbledore about the notes, and even the rose, although she blushed terribly during that part. Dumbledore sat still for a moment, rubbing his temple with a bony hand. At last he spoke.

"I see the reason for your concern; what you have told me is most troubling, especially what occurred in the Room of Requirements tonight. You are sure that no one saw you?"

Gwen thought for a moment; she had been completely covered by the Invisibility Cloak, and even if her shoe or something had slipped out for a moment, in the pandemonium of the rampaging spiders, she was sure no one would have noticed. She shook her head to indicate that she was positive she was unnoticed. Dumbledore stood up, and paced about the room, muttering to himself. Finally, he stood still, as if he had come to a resolution for whatever argument was playing out in his head. He turned on his heel and went over to a large oak cabinet, and pulled out the pensieve. He sat it on the desk, and went back to the cabinet, where he pulled out a small bottle; it was one of the one's Gwen had given to him from Harry earlier in the year. The liquid was a dark purplish black and it poured out of the bottle and into the pensieve very slowly, like a sort of sludge. When all of the liquid was into the pensieve, Dumbledore stirred it with his wand and looked at Gwen very sternly.

"What I'm going to show you is going to highly disturb you, and I wouldn't be surprised if you need a Dreamless Sleeping Drought for several days, possibly weeks. This is the memory from your Headmaster Potter. It is from his fourth year in school when he encountered the monster that is Lord Voldemort. I will go with you into the pensive because I am sure there will come a day when you must face Tom on your own, without my help, but until that time I will be here, with you. Are you ready?" he asked as he held out a hand for her.

Gwen gaped at him. _Now_? She had hoped to never see Voldemort in his ghastly, snake-like appearance, but here was Dumbledore telling her that she must see him. She stood up, shaky and pale, and took Dumbledore's hand. They leaned forward until their faces almost touched the surface of the muddy substance. The light around them swirled for a bit, and Gwen felt like she was falling, but then the air around her stopped.

She was standing in an eerie graveyard, the very same one from her nightmares. Almost all the light was gone from the sky, like the sun itself was afraid of this place. She looked over to where several tall, hooded figures were gathered around a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing stood the familiar face of Harry Potter; he was much younger than the man she was familiar with, but the emerald eyes and shaggy hair were unmistakable. He was caught against a gravestone by two sentry skeletons holding scythes. But that wasn't what utterly terrified her; it was the man, if you could even call him that, standing menacingly over Harry. He was tall and impossibly thin, with blood red eyes and no visible nose. He was pressing one long, spidery finger into Harry's lightening shaped scar, and this caused Harry to scream in agony. Voldemort laughed a high pitched, chilling laugh and his voice, once so deep and melodious, was now a blood-curling hiss.

"My God, Tom, what have you done to yourself?" she whispered in horror.

She thought of the tall, handsome boy she knew, and this…_thing_ standing in front of her could not _possibly_ be the same person. It was just too terrible, too far-fetched, and too inexplicably wrong to be him. The person in front of her was evil incarnate, a man so vile that hell itself seemingly spit him back out.

Voldemort turned around and faced the place where Gwen was standing and walked past her, never sensing her presence. He was explaining to Harry the correct way to duel, and he bowed in the same way Tom had when he had dueled Gwen. At that moment, a jet of green light spewed from Voldemort's want, and a red burst of light from Harry's wand intercepted it. Gwen watched in morbid fascination as the two dueled in a battle of sheer will. Only when Dumbledore tapped her did she rip her gaze from the scene in front of her. He pointed out Cedric Diggory, Cyrnic's grandchild. Cedric was dead, all the light of life had left his gentle hazel eyes, but the resemblance to his grandfather was unmistakable. Gwen moved towards the corpse, as though to comfort it in some way, but Dumbledore pulled on her shoulder and the swirling sensation returned. They landed once again in the comfort of his office, where the predawn light was starting to stream in through the high window.

Gwen stood next to the professor, and she had to grab onto his elbow to maintain her balance. He ushered her to a chair, where she plopped down like a heavy stone. She stared at the floor, and began to drum her fingers on her bouncing leg uncontrollably. What on earth could she do now? She had seen the face of the devil himself, and every time she tried to think of something else, the demonic vision would return.

"What am I going to do, what am I going to do?" she thought to herself over and over and over again.

She kept rocking back and forth in her chair until she made herself nauseous. Dumbledore patted her on the back reassuringly, but she never felt him there. She was lost in the abyss of her mind and oblivious to all that was around her. She must stop Tom at all costs, but as she had always wondered, how? How would she accomplish such a task? She had done nothing but intimidate, scorn and ridicule him.

"Professor? Please pass the wastebasket. I'm going to be sick."


	15. Field Trip

Chapter Fifteen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Field Trip**

**_What matters is to live in the present, live now, for every moment is now. It is your thoughts and acts of the moment that create your future. The outline of your future path already exists, for you created its pattern by your past._**_  
-_**_Sai Baba_**

Gwen sat at the breakfast table, scarcely breathing. She knew that if she breathed in the smell of the food she would throw up, again. After her encounter with Professor Dumbledore, the pensieve and that horrid memory, she had spent the better part of an hour bowing to the porcelain god, aka the toilet. Food was about the last thing she wanted, and frankly, as far as she was concerned, she could never eat again. Her mind was plagued by visions of Voldemort and his hellish laughter; he was more terrible than any description could possibly hope to portray. What on earth would drive a person to such depravity? Surely it was more than not getting any hugs while in the orphanage, the reasons for such madness had to be more complex than that. Perhaps madness ran in the family, and Tom's abandonment as a child only fueled the fire that was already there?

Whatever the reason, Gwen knew in her heart that the solution was much more complicated than she and the only thing she could do was to hope that her attempts at friendship succeeded no matter how feeble they were. But Tom would have to make the decision for himself not to become Voldemort, not her. She could be nice to him all she wanted, love him even, but in the end, only he could stop himself. Wasn't this what she had said so long ago, when she first learned of her "mission", her destiny? Her mind seemed to always return to this place, a place of hopeless despair and an angry, I-told-you-so attitude. Hadn't she predicted this from the beginning? Hadn't she always known that stopping Voldemort wasn't as easy as everyone had made it out to be?

For the rest of the day and the weeks that followed, Gwen was consumed by the haunting images of Voldemort. She would have to throw up before every tutoring session with Tom just to relieve the stress of being around him. She grew noticeably pale and large, gray circles seemed to permanently hang from her once bright eyes. Everyone around her noticed her increasingly quirky behavior, and at Emma's urging, her friends intervened. One day, after classes and before dueling practice, Emma, Shalini, and Lola cornered Gwen in the dorm room. She was staring out the window and petting Fawkes when Emma shut the door and cleared her throat.

"Gwen, we need to talk. We've all noticed how you've changed; you're really quiet and antsy. You look sick. What's wrong?" the tall black girl asked, her chocolate brown eyes filled with sisterly concern.

Gwen turned to face them, and her eyes had a slightly crazed look to them. Her hair was limp and shaggy; it looked like she had not combed it in days. Her eye darted quickly from face to face; they all looked very grave and concerned.

"Nothing's wrong, no nothing at all. Why would you think something's wrong?" she asked in an abnormally fast and high-pitched tone.

Emma took a step closer, her eyes still fixed on Gwen.

"I'm afraid that isn't true Gwen. Ever since the day after you got of the hospital, you've been completely out of character. Please tell us what happened. We're your friends. We want to help you," pleaded the prefect.

"I'm fine, really. It's just all this homework, you know? Its more than I'm used to, and I guess I'm not adjusting as well as I thought," Gwen lied.

Emma looked like she didn't believe Gwen, and for that matter, neither did Shalini or Lola, but they decided that Gwen wasn't going to budge, and so Lola changed the subject.

"Well, maybe tomorrow's field trip to Hogsmeade will make you feel better. We have the day off, so you can come and party with us," the short, bushy haired girl suggested.

Gwen, instead of looking relieved, only looked more stricken. Hogsmeade? There was no way she could go there, not without a signature of a guardian, and as of the moment she was short one. Besides, what if Tom held another Death Eater meeting or something while she was gone? What if he captured Cyrnic or someone else and hurt them? Could she ever forgive herself then? She was too deep into her depression as it was, and if anything went wrong, she wouldn't be surprised if she was locked up in the loony bin and the key was thrown away.

"Er… don't I need a parent or guardian's signature to go to Hogsmeade?" Gwen asked in an attempt to have a normal conversation.

"Yes you do. Don't you have foster parents or something?" Shalini spoke up for the first time.

"No, no I don't. I used to have foster parents; actually, I had several, but they all got rid of me. Said I was weird and frightened their precious little kiddies, but that's a lie. I'd never hurt anyone who couldn't properly defend themselves," Gwen stated in her most normal voice to date.

There was much truth to her statement. She had been shuffled around from foster home to foster home, and although she would never blatantly use magic, the family would become suspicious when a previously cracked vase would mysteriously be whole again. Then there was the time she had been accused of poisoning the dog of one of the families, but in reality it was the evil little brat of a boy that lived with her.

Shalini looked a bit ashamed for assuming that Gwen had someone to live with, and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Gwen waved her off, saying, "Bah! It's nothing. I never told you, so you had no way of knowing anything about my home situation, or lack thereof. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore could sign it for me. He is head of my House, after all."

"That sounds like a great idea! I'll talk with the professor tonight at the prefect meeting," Emma offered.

Gwen smiled feebly to show her thanks, and the girls passed the rest of the evening doing homework until dinnertime. The four Gryffindors trooped down to the Great Hall together, and ate together. For the first time in a while, Gwen seemed to be like her old self: sarcastic, self-deprecating, an unintentionally funny. She ate more than she had in a while, and the added nutrients seemed to improve her appearance and demeanor. By the end of dinner, she was almost completely normal, if one could ever call her that. Shalini, Lola and Gwen walked back to the common room while Emma stayed behind for the prefect meeting. Gwen was smiling again, but that soon faded when she glimpsed Tom out of the corner of her eye. She quickly glanced away and tried to turn her attention back to Lola who had just asked her a question.

"Uh, what did you say?" Gwen asked.

"I said, 'what do you want to do first, when we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow'? Weren't you paying attention? Or were you sneaking a look at your 'tutor' or should I say lover boy, again?" Lola asked with a hint of annoyance that faded to mirth.

Gwen openly blanched and snapped furiously, "For the last time, he is NOT MY LOVER BOY! I DON'T EVEN LIKE HIM!"

And with that she furiously pounded up the stairs, leaving a hurt Lola and a bewildered Shalini behind her.

"What was that all about?" Shalini asked.

"I don't know. I've never seen her blow up like that before. Sure, she always gets a little pissed when I tease her about fancying Tom, but never to this extent. I don't know what's wrong with her," Lola said worriedly, and not without a slight hint of gilt.

The two continued up to the common room, where they found Gwen huddled in the corner next to the fireplace, drumming her fingers on the arm of the large chair she was sitting in. She refused to acknowledge their presence, and instead, stood up angrily and flounced off to the dorm and slammed the door. Lola sighed heavily and went over to the fireplace where she poked the fire moodily. Shalini stood to the side, not knowing quite what to say.

The next day Emma, Lola, and Shalini were in line to show their permission slips to Dumbledore when Gwen came up behind them, all smiles, as if nothing had happened. She had on her red and gold scarf along with her heavier robes. The air had a slight chill to it; winter was drawing near and the birds were migrating south.

"Hey guys! How's it going? All ready for the trip?" she asked pleasantly.

Emma, and the rest just stared at her like she had grown another head. How could she be in such a good mood? The last time they had seen Gwen she was holed up in her bed, and refused to draw aside the curtains and speak with them. Lola had tried to apologize for teasing Gwen about Tom but Gwen just ignored her. Emma tried to tell Gwen that she had talked to Professor Dumbledore, but she didn't have time at the meeting. Finally, they had become fed-up with the Gryffindor heir and left her alone. Really, she could be such a drama queen, sometimes.

"Uh…hi," Shalini finally said.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to interrupt the awkward meeting, and asked Shalini for her permission slip. She gave it to him and he let her pass. He did the same for Emma and Lola. When he finally got to Gwen he asked her where her permission slip was.

"I don't have one professor, because I don't have a legal guardian. I was hoping you would allow me to go since you are head of my House. Perhaps you could sign my permission slip for me," Gwen said hopefully.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Miss Morrison. I'm not your legal guardian and the rules are very clear. Only a legal guardian or parent can sign the permission slip. I'm very sorry, Gwen," Dumbledore replied ruefully.

Gwen looked down, visibly disappointed. Dumbledore cleared his throat and adjusted his half moon glasses as he leaned forward.

"However, I must say that I will claim no knowledge of the fact if you were to…shall we say, find another way into Hogsmeade," he said softly as he gave her a significant look.

Gwen smiled largely and winked at the professor in understanding. He walked past her without another word and went to check the papers of the last few students. After they had left Gwen walked across the stone courtyard and to the humpbacked witch. She checked to make sure no one was looking, and pulled on the Invisibility Cloak; she had started carrying it around everywhere with her. Gwen pushed on the back of the statue, and when the steps leading inside were revealed. She quickly descended into the darkness, and whatever pale light spilled in from the outside world disappeared when the opening closed again.

"_**Lumos**_," she whispered quietly as she held up her wand and off the Invisibility Cloak.

She walked with a slight bit of hesitancy; she didn't want to trip and fall in the limited light of her wand. After a while, the passage became steeper, until she reached another staircase. Gwen climbed the stairs and pressed on the trap door in the floor of Honeydukes. Something impaired the movement of the door anywhere above an inch, so Gwen extinguished her wand and levitated whatever it was a bit to the left. She prayed that no one was in the basement to see whatever it was move away from the trap door. Pulling on the Invisibility Cloak again, she quickly crawled out of the tunnel and into the storage room. Fortunately, no one was there, so she levitated the box of caramel peanuts back to its hiding place. She then trooped up the steps and peeked out the door leading to behind the counter.

Gwen waited for the middle-aged woman behind the counter to go with a student to find a particular sweet in the store. Gwen pointed her wand at a shelf of Botts Every-Flavored Jelly Beans and caused it to tip over just as a Hufflepuff passed by. The jellybeans flew everywhere, and as the shop owner and all of the students near the counter scrambled to pick up the fallen candy, Gwen hurried out into the store. She crouched behind a display, and when she was sure no one was watching, she pulled of the Invisibility Cloak, and shoved it into her bag. She popped up from behind the display and acted like she had been in the store all along, stopping ever so often to peruse the merchandise.

"Hey Gwen! I didn't see you come in! How are you? You haven't been to the library to study with me in ages!" came the familiar voice of Abigail Radcliff.

"Oh! Hi there, Abigail. Yeah, it has been a while, hasn't it?" Gwen replied with a startled smile.

Abigail gave her a warm hug and chattered about trivial things to Gwen, pausing ever so often to inquire about Gwen's life. As they stood in line to make their purchases, Gwen with her English toffee and Abigail with her white chocolate covered popcorn, Abigail turned to Gwen.

"So you never answered my question, why haven't you been into the library? I've missed chatting with you!"

Gwen shuffled uncomfortably. How could she tell such a chipper person like Abigail about her depression? She could always tell the same lie she has told Emma, Lola, and Shalini, but Gwen was growing tired of all the deception.

"Uh, well, I've been kind of a funk lately; all the stress of the homework had really gotten to me, you know? I haven't really been myself lately, and a lot of people seem to be really worried about me. You know Lola, Emma, and Shalini, right? Well, they confronted me last night and really made me realize how odd I was acting. I'm afraid I was kind of rude to them. I should probably try and find them to apologize. Oh, its out turn to pay out. You go first," Gwen motioned for Abigail to cut in front of her in line.

After the girls had paid for her purchases, they walked outside and into the bighting autumnal air. Gwen pulled her robes closer to her body as she and Abigail walked against the wind and into The Three Broomsticks. Sitting at a far table close to the counter was Lola, Emma, and Shalini. They looked up when the bell over the door jingled as Abigail and Gwen entered, but none of them offered either girl a seat. Gwen felt the hot pangs of guilt, and she thanked her lucky stars that she had Abigail with her. If she hadn't been there, Gwen wasn't sure what she would have done. At that moment, Samantha Joel walked in, waved congenially to Gwen and Abigail and offered for them to join her with Emma and the rest. Abigail blithely accepted, but Gwen remained tight lipped. She knew that she had hurt her friends deeply, and she knew that a simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't cover her actions this time.

"Well, I can at least try and make an amends," Gwen thought to herself as she took a seat next to Samantha and Abigail.

The bar attendant came up to the group to get their drinks, and as she was about to leave to fill them, Gwen pulled her aside and whispered in her ear.

"Give me the bill, ok? This is my treat," Gwen said.

The bar attendant nodded and scurried off to take other table's orders. After a while, the attendant returned with butterbeers for everyone except Gwen. She hated the fizzy taste of the drink, and had instead opted for a simple glass of cider. Gwen surreptitiously slipped the money for the drinks into the apron of the waitress as she passed by to refill another order. After Gwen was finished with her cider, she excused herself to leave. She had to get back to Honeydukes so that she could sneak back into the castle without detection. After the other girls had finished their drinks, they got out their billfolds in order to pay, but the waitress waved them off.

"Oh dears, your drinks have already been paid for by your friend that already left. She told me to tell you that it was her treat to you for being such good friends to her."

Shalini, Emma, and Lola all looked at each other in bewilderment. Gwen had paid for them, even though she had been angry with them? Where had she gotten the money? They all had assumed that she was poor because she was an orphan, and wouldn't have money to spare for splurging.

"She' nutters, I swear it. One minute she's a raving lunatic, the next she's all smiles and giggles. Absolutely nutters, I say," Lola finally spoke up.

"That may be true, but I wouldn't have her any other way, would you?" Emma asked with a grin.

Lola nodded. Sometimes, a little craziness isn't a bad thing.


	16. Fireside Chat

Chapter Sixteen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Fireside Chat**

**_In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed._****_  
-_****_Kahlil Gibran_**

November passed and the icy winds of December came, and with it the anticipation of the Christmas season. Tall cedar and large fir trees were brought in and decorated with the various House colors while snowflakes gently scratched against windows panes. The lake was frozen over and on weekends students could be seen ice-skating on its surface. Exited voices whispered in the halls, speaking of desired Christmas gifts and other simple wishes. Tests were more frequent, as were detentions for slacking off. All in all, it was a fairly enjoyable and normal holiday season at Hogwarts.

Gwen and Abigail sat in the library after dinner one night in large comfortable chairs next to a pleasantly crackling fire. Dueling practice was between Ravenclaw and Slytherin tonight, so that meant the girls had free time to study together. Abigail sipped on a butterbeer, while Gwen drank apple cider. They studied in a pleasant silence until the sound of approaching footsteps reached Gwen's ears. She would know that stride anywhere; Tom Riddle was walking down the isle nearest to Gwen—the isle that lead directly to the Restricted Section.

"No surprise there," Gwen thought to herself.

She had almost given up entirely on befriending Tom. She quit trying to start conversations with him in tutoring or go out of her way to be nice to him. Instead, she treated him with a firm civility, and it anything, he seemed to respond to that more than anything. He wasn't quite so condescending to her when they spoke, and he even gave her a few genuine compliments, although those were few and far between.

The footsteps grew louder and more distinct and soon the tall, imposing figure of Mr. Riddle emerged from the shadows. He quickly crossed the open space where Gwen and Abigail were sitting and continued into the Restricted Section without even acknowledging their presence. Gwen's eyes followed him as he walked, and she strained to see what title he picked up from one of the dusty shelves. However, he was too far away and she was too short to see the name of the tome in his spidery hand. Abigail noticed that Gwen was no longer paying any attention to the Charms essay in front of her. The Hufflepuff glanced up and her gaze followed Gwen's to Tom.

"Who are you looking at?" Abigail asked with feigned innocence.

"Nobody," Gwen answered hastily as she quickly turned back to her essay.

"I wouldn't exactly call Tom Riddle a _nobody_," Abigail said slowly, knowing full well how touchy Gwen was when it came to him.

"I suppose not. He is the darling of the Slytherins, what with that little posse that's always following him around. The whole school, for that matter, seems to hang on his every word," Gwen sniffed with disdain.

"Yes, but you make that sound like a bad thing. You know him better than I do. He really can't be that bad, can he?" Abigail asked with her trademark ignorant sweetness.

Gwen frowned inwardly. _Bad?_ That didn't even begin to scratch the surface. Then again, there had been no more Death Eater meetings in the Room of Requirements and Dinky had reported that Tom was treating the Slytherin house elves with a glimmer of respect.

Still, he wasn't showing any drastic signs of changing, but Gwen supposed that any drastic change was going to be highly unlikely. Tom wasn't going to suddenly become sweet and cuddly, as she had told herself over and over again. Besides, some traits just might be inherent to his personality. Gwen was naturally sarcastic; maybe he was just naturally cold.

"No, its not that he's bad, _per se_, its just that he's so revered about everyone else, like he's perfect or something. For example, he's been in the Restricted Section unsupervised for over five minutes now. Do you think that anyone else could do that?" Gwen answered after a while.

Abigail considered this for a moment before saying, " Well, I suppose you're right. But then again he's brilliant. There's even been talk that he's the best student Hogwarts has seen in over one hundred years. If he gets preferential treatment it's because he's earned it."

At that moment, Tom left the Restricted Section and walked back down the isle towards the girls. Only this time, instead of ignoring them, he stopped and nodded in greeting to Gwen.

"Hello, Miss Morrison. I assume that you are ready for your Potions final?" he asked with his customary straightforwardness.

"Yes, I think I'm ready. I've studied everything Professor Slughorn told us to, and I've even recopied my notes to make sure that I understand them," she answered back casually.

Tom nodded curtly and then said, "Very good. Well, if you think that you need an extra tutoring session, I am sure that some arrangements can be made. Send me an owl if you need me."

Gwen stared at him blankly for a second; her mind was trying to register what he had just said. Had he just offered to spend even _more_ time with her, tutoring her voluntarily and on his own time? Surely not! She must have heard him wrong. Gwen looked over to Abigail, who was smiling at Gwen with a peculiar light in her eye.

"Must be the fire," Gwen thought to herself.

Tom looked at her with a slightly raised eyebrow; she hadn't responded to his offer for extra help, and instead looked a bit like a goldfish with her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He cleared his throat delicately to indicate that Gwen had not answered him.

"Oh, yeah, huh? Um, sure, that sounds great Tom, but I know that you must be really busy. I'll be alright. I'm ready for the test," Gwen said in a flustered voice.

"Very well then, if you are confident that you are ready, then we can forego that extra session. I just want to make sure that you will do well, because if you do not, then your failure will come back on me, and I simply cannot have that," Tom replied smoothly.

He almost turned to leave, but he spotted Gwen's essay on the table in front of her. He picked it up without even asking her and perused the contents. He came to a spot where she had made a mistake, and so he pulled out his wand and corrected it. When he was finished proofreading, he returned the essay back to its place on the desk.

"Good night, Miss Morrison, and Miss?" Tom turned to Abigail with an inquiring expression.

"Abigail Radcliff," she said shyly, her porcelain completion reddening.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Radcliff," Tom said with a low bow as he lightly kissed her hand.

Abigail blushed even harder and giggled slightly. She looked up at Tom adoringly as he straightened up. Gwen, however, felt a sudden pang of green-eyed jealousy sweep over her. Why was he kissing up to Abigail? Gwen thought that if Tom should be treating anyone chivalrously, it should be her and not Abigail. After all, it was she that was in tutorials with Tom, not Abigail. Gwen knew him, not her. But as soon as the envy came, it passed.

"My God, what is wrong with me?" Gwen thought. "I'm getting angry over a simple greeting. He does that to every girl he meets for the first time. Hell, he even did that to me. Why should I let this bother me? It's no big deal. It's not like he snogged her, or anything."

Gwen shook her head to rid it of any lasting emotions, and said, "So Tom, why aren't you down in the Great Hall teaching dueling practice? Shouldn't you be showing your fellow Slytherins how to loose—oh, I mean, fight."

Tom looked at her with a slight hint of anger at her insinuation, but when he saw that she had a joking smile on her face, he softened slightly. He pushed his right sleeve up and tapped his watch.

"Dueling practice has been over for an hour. And as far as anyone in Slytherin loosing, I see that as highly unlikely. Those of us who are so blessed to be in the noble house of Salazar Slytherin are not inclined to loose at anything, if we can help it. However, I cannot say the same for the other houses, particularly Gryffindor. It seems that the lot of you have a 'save the world complex' that I must confess that I simply cannot understand. But that is neither here nor there. I really must go; I have several prefect duties to attend to, and without further adieu, I bid you ladies a good night."

And with that he swept out of the room, leaving Abigail in a state of hormone-induced wistfulness. Gwen, meanwhile, continued writing on her essay, purposefully trying to ignore the ridiculously large smile on her friend's face. Really, did she have to show all her teeth like that? She looked like a drunken horse.

"Oh Gwen, why didn't you tell me?" she said dreamily.

Gwen kept writing and prayed for patience before answering, "Tell you what?"

"Why didn't you tell me he is so charming?" Abigail swooned.

Gwen rolled her eyes and kept writing. She was almost finished with her essay, and she really didn't want any interruptions in her flow of ideas, particularly if the interruption dealt with Tom. She'd had enough of him today.

"Really Gwen, I don't know what's wrong with you. Tom seems like wonderful person. Why, he even offered to give you extra help. If I were you I would have taken him up on his offer," Abigail persisted as she gathered her books to leave.

"Then I guess it's a good thing you aren't me," Gwen stated flatly.

Finals week came and went, and Gwen passed all of her tests with flying colors (red and gold, of course). She even managed to make a solid E for Exceeds Expectations on her Potions test. It was only two days until Christmas Break, and the excitement in the air was almost tangible. Students were frantically packing their trunks in anticipation of returning home. Owls were arriving almost hourly with letters and early gifts, and gossip flew down the halls even faster than beating owl wings.

The rumor de jour dealt with Professor Slughorn's annual Christmas party. According to some, it would be a costume party, and whoever had the best costume would have an E for the rest of the year. Others claimed that it would be a dance, and that a world famous ballroom dancer was going to choose her new partner from the students. Whatever the case, whether the party would be a dance or a costume bash, the most prevalent question was who would Tom Riddle escort. Nearly every girl was convinced that she would be Cinderella to his Prince Charming, and that he would whisk her off for an incredible night of romance. One such girl was none other than Moaning Myrtle. She made it a point to be everywhere Tom was, batting her eyes behind her large glasses coquettishly and twirling one pigtail as she giggled. Tom was not impressed. He tried to avoid her at all costs, but like a pimple, she kept showing up at the most inopportune moments.

On the night before Slughorn's party, Tom was walking back to "his" common after dinner when his sharp ears detected the pitter-patter of small feet behind him. A slight giggle reached his ears followed by a shushing noise. He had a pretty good idea who was following him, so he quicken his long stride and attempted to ignore the girl(s) behind him. Suddenly, Myrtle popped out from behind a column and stood right in his way. Tom came to an abrupt stop and nearly ran Myrtle over. Her silly laugh spilled out of her throat, and she stood on one foot while twirling the other behind her. She was attempting to look seductive, but instead looked more like a cross-eyed flamingo with balance problems.

"Uh, may I help you?" Tom asked as his eyes searched for the nearest exit.

Unfortunately, Myrtle was blocking his only path to the dungeons, unless he turned around and went in completely different direction. But that would be retreating as far as he was concerned, and he was too stubborn to retreat. Besides, what kind of Dark Lord runs away from an insipid thirteen year old?

"Oh yes, yes you can help me. I was wondering if you have a date to Professor Slughorn's party? I _love_ to dance," Myrtle said in an attempt at a purr, but it came out more like a squeak.

"Uh…" Tom trailed off.

Truthfully, he had not planned on going to the party, and Myrtle's cloying actions only served to harden his resolve to stay in his room. His eyes bounced around the hallway like a cornered animal looking for escape. Myrtle took a step closer to him and latched herself onto his arm. He stared down in her in horror, as though she were a tarantula that was slowing climbing up his arm. Tom tried to shake her off gently, but she just squeezed him tighter.

"Oh, Tom, we'll have such a wonderful time together!" she cooed.

Tom visible shuddered; he thought he was going to be sick.

"Somebody help me," he thought desperately.

As if on cue, Gwen and Abigail rounded the corner behind Myrtle. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were chatting amicably on their way to the Hufflepuff common room; Abigail wanted to show Gwen her new Christmas dress. Gwen stopped short when she saw Moaning Myrtle hanging onto a harassed looking Tom. Myrtle was blathering on about Slughorn's party and how very happy she was that Tom would be going with her. Tom's eyes were wide in terror, and when he spotted Gwen, he seemed to silently plead for help.

Gwen tried not to laugh, but the situation really was quite humorous. He was Tom Riddle, the big, bad, heir of Slytherin, the boy who never lost his cool, and here he was, scared of a silly little girl. Glancing over at Abigail with a sly smile, Gwen walked boldly up to Tom and easily slid in between him and Myrtle.

"Oh there you are, Tom! I've been looking all over for you. Well, my dress is all ready; all I need to do now is confer with you about my corsage. Oh, hello there Myrtle, I didn't see you standing there," Gwen said as she flashed her biggest and most innocent smile.

Myrtle opened and closed her mouth a few times in an attempt to speak, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak. She balled her firsts furiously and attempted to swing at Gwen, but Gwen easily caught Myrtle's wrist. She twisted it behind Myrtle's back with one swift moment and pressed Myrtle up against the stone wall.

"Now, now, Myrtle dear, didn't your mother ever tell you that violence never solves anything? Besides, what would your fellow Hufflepuffs think of you going around picking fights with upperclassmen? And let's not forget our _dear_ friend, Mr. Riddle. Do you really think he would care for a young lady who can't control her emotions, _hmm_?" Gwen whispered maliciously in Myrtle's ear.

The young Hufflepuff's head quivered in agreement.

"That's what I thought. Now run along dear, the grown ups need to talk," Gwen mocked.

Myrtle scampered down the hall and to the dungeon wailing and blubbering loudly. Gwen looked back at Tom triumphantly. He heaved a huge sigh and rubbed his head wearily. Really, sometimes the opposite sex could be so trying. Gwen cleared her throat.

"You're welcome," she said haughtily.

"Thank you, but I could have handled that myself," Tom retorted.

Gwen rolled her eyes expressively, and snorted, "Yes, I can see that. Why, she was practically suffocating you. Really, Tom, for all of your book knowledge, you have no idea how to treat a girl."

Tom glared at her indignantly; how _dare_ she insult his abilities! He knew perfectly well how to handle people, girls included. All he had to do was charm them into his pawns. Simple, easy, and no attachments formed, that's the way he operated. How else could he build up a following?

"I'll be going now. Abigail, you ready?" Gwen asked over her shoulder to her blonde friend.

Abigail nodded and walked over to Gwen, but not before she cast a shy smile up at Tom. He looked at both the girls, his mind at a rare crossroads. On one hand, he really didn't want to go to that party. On the other, he knew that it would only increase his already lofty standing and he might be able to establish a few well-placed contacts in the Ministry and other places. He could always show up for a little while, make the rounds, and leave. As Gwen and Abigail were about to descend the stairs he called out Gwen's name. She turned around and looked at him, slightly annoyed.

"Yes?" she asked tersely.

"What kind of flowers do you want in your corsage?" he inquired briskly. "Red roses? Most women tend to favor those."

Gwen stared at him incredulously. Corsage? Roses? Women? He was really serious about taking her to the Slug Club Christmas party. She was just trying to help him out of a sticky situation when she had implied that they were going together, but never had any intention of _actually _doing anything of the sort.

Finally, she replied, "Red roses are nice, but they're so cliché. I'm rather partial to orchids or gladiolus, myself."

Tom nodded crisply, turned around, and walked away, presumably to go to the dungeon another way. Gwen turned back around to descend the steps with Abigail. The two of them continued in silence until they reached the Hufflepuff sixth year girls dorm room. No one was there, and Abigail let out a girlish squeal.

"Oh Gwen, he asked you to the costume ball! How magnificent is that? Why didn't you tell me earlier that you'd agreed to go with him? I'd help you put together your outfit! Who are you going as? Oh, tell me everything!" Abigail cried as she jumped up and down holding Gwen's wrists.

Gwen felt suddenly very hot. What had she gotten herself into? And more importantly, how would she extricate herself from this situation that she had been suddenly thrust into?

"Uh, well, you saw how he asked me just then. We never agreed to go together before tonight; frankly, I wasn't even sure he was going. He doesn't seem like a party type of guy," Gwen answered truthfully.

Abigail stopped her jumping and looked at Gwen unbelievingly.

"You mean that you weren't invited beforehand? So what was all of that about you having a dress and needing flowers to match? You made all that up?"

"Uh, essentially, yes. I saw that he was about to be mauled by Myrtle, and so being the nice person that I am; I decided to help ole Tommy boy out. Looks like he was right, Gryffindors do have a 'save the world complex.' Look where it got me; I've agreed to go to a costume ball with a person that I can barely tolerate, and I have nothing to wear. Great planning, wasn't it?" Gwen replied miserably.

"You have nothing to wear?" Abigail asked in disbelief.

"Not a thing, and I don't know where I'd get a decent costume at this hour," Gwen moaned.

Quick as a flash, Abigail disappeared into her wardrobe, only to pop out just as quickly. She was holding a beautiful azure silk dress with bell shaped sleeves that were as long as the hem. Delicate ivory and gold lace adorned the neckline, waist, sleeves and hem. From the elbows two long golden scarves gently rippled to mid thigh. It was an old-fashioned ball gown, not unlike something Queen Guinevere would have worn to a lavish banquet in the golden halls of Camelot.

Gwen gasped in awe at the work of art in Abigail's hands.

"Where did you get _that_?" she murmured.

"It was my great, great, great, _great_, grandmother's dress; it's been passed down through my family for generations. It was given to me to wear on my seventeenth birthday. But I think I can let you borrow it for one night," Abigail stated proudly.

"Oh, Abigail, I _couldn't_! It's too beautiful! What if I spill something on it?" Gwen protested.

"Nonsense. It's my dress after all, and I can do what I want with it, therefore, I'm letting you borrow it. Besides, a non-staining spell was placed on it when it was made, so you don't have to worry about that. And another wonderful thing about this dress is that it changes color to match the personality of the wearer. Currently, it's blue because I'm a really peaceful person, but I bet you anything it changes to red and gold when you put it on. Here take it, I insist," Abigail stated as she pushed the garment into Gwen's hands.

As soon as Gwen's fingers touched the liquid smooth fabric, the light blue shade turned a deep scarlet, and the lace a brilliant shade of shimmering gold. Gwen smiled widely and enveloped her friend in a hug.

"Thanks so much, I really appreciate it," Gwen said through tears that she struggled to contain.

"You're quite welcome," Abigail replied happily.

Gwen left the Hufflepuff common room that night feeling like a princess. Although the dress probably would not have been her first choice had she had time to shop for an outfit, she was elated that Abigail had been so kind to lend it to her. Gwen returned to her common room and hung the dress carefully in the wardrobe, before turning to rummage in her trunk. She pulled out the turquoise scarf Shalini had given her for her birthday, and quickly transfigured it to match the ruby color of her dress. Gwen smiled like a fool as she readied herself for bed. She couldn't wait for the party to begin.


	17. Presents

Chapter Seventeen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Presents**

**_For it is in giving that we receive._****_  
-_****_St. Francis of Assisi_**

"Gwen, wake up! It's almost ten in the morning!" Lola urged as she ripped open the curtain hiding the sleeping girl.

"Mmhfumff," Gwen mumbled incoherently as she lazily curled into the fetal position.

"Gwen, come on! Wake up! Today's the last day before Christmas Break and we have so much to do!" Lola pleaded.

"Five more minutes," Gwen mumbled as she sluggishly swatted at Lola.

"I don't think she wants to get up," Shalini said.

"No, really, I didn't realize that!" Lola replied sarcastically.

"Geeze, get your knickers in a wad, why don't you!" Shalini retorted as she held her palms up defensively.

"Argh, with you two stop it! How am I going to get my five extra minutes of sleep?" Gwen asked groggily from her bed.

"You're up! It's about time!" Lola said as she sprung onto Gwen's bed and started bouncing on it.

"Get. Off. My. Bed. NOW," Gwen growled as she smacked Lola with her pillow.

"Oh, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Lola teased.

"That would be correct, since I really didn't want to wake up at all," Gwen said in mock anger, a small smile threatening to show itself.

"Well boo hoo, why don't you go cry about it?" Lola said, still jumping on the bed.

"No thanks. I'm not a Slytherin," Gwen replied as she stood up and stretched.

"Hullo Gwen! Nice to see that you're finally up! We have so much to do and so little time," came Emma's voice from the bathroom as she entered, tying on her robes.

"Hey Emma. So what is it exactly that we have to do today that is so important?" Gwen asked.

"Well, for starters, I thought that after well all got dressed and ate, we'd go ice skating. Then we could build a snowman, make snow angels and come in for some hot chocolate. After that we'd open our presents and just chat until dinner. After dinner, I was thinking some stories were in order. Sound like fun to you?" Emma asked excitedly.

"And don't forget the snowball fight!" Lola interjected, still jumping on Gwen's bed.

"Will you get off of there? I don't want to have a lumpy mattress or have my bed break. The house elves would kill me in my sleep. It all sounds like fun, but I'll have to forego dinner and the stories. I have to go to this party thing for Professor Slughorn—" Gwen said, but she was interrupted by Lola.

"You're going to the Slug Club Christmas party? Why didn't you tell us?" Lola asked loudly as she jumped off the bed.

"I wasn't planning on going to it until last night. It just sort of came up," Gwen answered nonchalantly.

"Who are you going with?" Emma asked as she sat down on her bed to face Gwen.

"Tom," Gwen mumbled quietly as she coughed in slight embarrassment.

"YOU'RE GOING WITH TOM RIDDLE!" Lola screeched.

"SHH! Do you really want to get me in the Hospital Wing, again?" Gwen snapped as her green eyes flashed dangerously at Lola.

"Oh, sorry. But you're going with Tom Riddle! How did that happen?" Lola asked as she plopped down on her bed.

"Well, it's a long story…" Gwen began.

"That's ok, we've got all day," Shalini urged as she scooted closer to Gwen's feet.

"Um, ok. Well, you see I was walking down the hall with Abigail…" and Gwen began the tale of the great escape from Moaning Myrtle.

"So let's see this magic dress, huh?" Emma asked.

Gwen went to the wardrobe and pulled out the magnificent garment. All of her friends oohed and ahhed at it. Gwen twirled around, holding the dress up to her chest. The scarlet fabric flashed brilliantly in the mid morning light.

"So who are you supposed to be, exactly?" Lola asked.

"I…I. Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. I guess I could be Queen Guinevere, only I spell my name G-W-E-N-E-V-E-R-E instead of G-U-I-N-E-V-E-R-E. But anyway, I guess that's who I'll be," Gwen supposed.

"So who is Tom coming as?" Emma asked.

"Pfft. Like I know. A vampire, maybe? He certainly has that whole billowing black cape down to a tee, and he's tall and pale enough to fit the job," Gwen mused.

"Yeah, and he's bloody sexy, too, pardon the pun," Lola interjected.

Gwen rolled her eyes slightly, and changed the subject.

"So we'd better get ready if we want to get to that snowball fight, huh?" Gwen suggested.

The others nodded in agreement, and within an hour the four Gryffindor's were outside in the cold, each wrapped tightly in brightly decorated scarves of red and gold. Their laughter bounced off the grounds of Hogwarts and mingled with the laughter of other boisterous students. Lola and Gwen were on one team, while Emma and Shalini were on the other. They reined snowballs down on each other, and soon their teams had swelled to well over twenty. The snow seemed almost inexhaustible, and the fight continued until mid afternoon. Finally, a truce was declared and all the students trooped inside; everyone was completely wet, completely tired, and completely happy. The Gryffindor's ascended to their tower, where they found large mugs of steaming hot chocolate and shortbread on the table in the middle of the common room. Within a minutes time the refreshments were irrevocably consumed.

"So how about some presents?" Shalini asked through a mouthful of shortbread.

"Mmm. Presents. I love presents!" Lola mumbled back through her shortbread.

The four friends drank the last of their coco and went to their dorm room where they quickly changed into dry clothing. Each one sat in front of her trunk and passed their gifts to the appropriate person. Emma was the first to open her gifts. From Shalini came a beautiful Indian throw pillow, and from Lola came a bag of expensive Syrian figs. Gwen gave Emma a bottle of ink that smelled like cinnamon and apples, and a special quill to go with it.

Lola was the second to open her gifts. Shalini gave her a pillow similar to the one Emma received. Emma gave Lola a long necklace adorned with drops of amber at various intervals, and Gwen gave Lola a bag of different flavored chap sticks.

"Chap stick?" Shalini asked, confused.

"It's our little ongoing inside joke. Remember at the beginning of the year when Lola couldn't find her chap stick and her glasses fell into her oatmeal? So I've given her so much chap stick that she'll never be able to loose them all. At least I hope not," Gwen explained.

"Oh, I see," Shalini said, nodding her head.

"Well, Shalini, why don't you open your presents now?" Emma suggested.

"Ok!"

Shalini opened her gifts and exclaimed in delight when she pulled out a large bag of her favorite candy, Bott's Every-Flavored Bean, from Gwen. From Emma came a bag of lavender potpourri, and from Lola came a small, cedar box to house the lavender. Finally, it was Gwen's turn to open her gifts. She voraciously tore into the wrapping paper, and pulled out a pair of flat, ruby silk slippers covered in golden beads from Lola.

"They're supposed to be house slippers, but you could also wear them tonight with your dress," Lola explained.

"Thanks, I think I'll do that," Gwen said appreciatively.

"Open my present, open mine!" Shalini urged excitedly.

Gwen tore into the next present, Shalini's, and uncovered yet another exotic throw pillow. Gwen thanked Shalini, and set the pillow on her bed. Fawkes chirped and flew over to nudge the pillow curiously. He delicately plucked at the large tassel at the front, and scratched at the woven golden rope around the edges of the pillow. At last the phoenix was satisfied with his investigation, and he flew down to Gwen and sat next to her, as though he wanted to help open her presents.

"You want to help me open my gifts, don't you Fawkes?" Gwen asked lovingly as she gently stroked the bird.

The bird nodded his delicate head, and Gwen held up Emma's present for him to peck at. He gently pulled the large ribbon off with his curved beak, and then Gwen ripped open the wrapping paper. She gasped with delight as she pulled out a small bottle of expensive looking French perfume. Emma didn't know if, but she had given Gwen the very perfume that had been the orphan's dead mother's favorite. Gwen could still recall the unique scent of the perfume combined with her mother's cooking. A few tears threatened to fall from Gwen's eyes, but she quickly pushed those aside. Tonight was a night of celebration of friendship, not a night of grieving.

At that moment, a scratching noise came from the window where a school owl was fluttering outside. Gwen crossed the room and opened the window, and the owl flew in and landed on her trunk. It spotted Fawkes, and bowed in reverence to the phoenix. Fawkes returned the courtesy, and then the owl hooted at Gwen to call her over. Tied to its spindly leg was an elongated white box. Gwen gently removed the box from the owl and paid it. The owl hooted in appreciation and flew out the window from which it had entered.

"Are you going to open it?" Lola asked in anticipation.

"In a _minute_. There seems to be a note from the sender," Gwen said with a slight hint of agitation.

She pulled out a small card, and her eyes were immediately assaulted with the familiar writing of Mr. Riddle.

_**Miss Morrison,**_

_**Here are your orchids, as requested. I hope that you find them to your liking. Please be on the landing in front of Gryffindor Tower by 6:45 pm.**_

Happy Christmas, Tom Marvolo Riddle 

"Let me see! It's from Tom, isn't it?" Lola asked as she snatched the note from Gwen's hand.

Gwen opened her mouth to reprimand Lola for stealing her note, but Lola's insane laughter drowned her out.

"Orchids! He got you orchids! And his middle name is Marvolo, which is obviously short for marvelous," Lola cackled.

"Marvolo is a family name, you dolt, and it isn't short for marvelous," Gwen snapped as she retrieved the note from Lola's hands.

"How do you know that?" Emma asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"How do I know what?" Gwen answered.

"How do you know Marvolo is a family name? Tom's an orphan, like you. He doesn't have any family," Emma said slowly, trying not to offend Gwen.

"Er… I guessed. I mean, who gives their kid such a weird name if it wasn't a family name, right?" Gwen stuttered, suddenly afraid that she might have let too much information slip.

"Oh, I guess so," Emma said, but she wasn't totally convinced.

"Well, I'd better get ready if he wants me to be on the landing by 6:45. I'm going to take a shower. See you guys in a bit," Gwen waved as she strode into the bathroom.

She emerged thirty minutes later, looking quite lovely in her silk gown. She pulled on the silk slippers that Lola had given her, and dabbed a little bit of Emma's perfume on her wrists and neck. Gwen then strapped on Gryffindor's sword around her waist and sat down for Shalini to weave the orchids and the golden scarf in her hair. Apparently Tom had placed some sort of charm on the flowers so that they would sparkle with golden flecks of glitter in their delicate white flesh. After Shalini had finished, Gwen glanced at her watch. It read 6:44. Gwen quickly thanked her friends, called Fawkes to her, and ran down the stairs and out the portrait hole. She looked around, and didn't see Tom anywhere.

"He's late; that's a first," Gwen thought to herself, but her thoughts were caught off at the sound of…beating wings?

"What on earth is _that_?" Gwen wondered aloud.

It sounded like a huge owl, but the sight that greeted Gwen was far from an owl. Sitting atop a large, snow white winged horse was Tom. The horse, which looked like Pegasus from the Greek myths, was beating its massive wings with powerful strokes. Emma, Lola, Shalini, and a few other Gryffindor girls who had followed Gwen out the portrait hole out of curiosity gasped audibly. One girl fainted, and Lola looked like she was about to. Gwen, however, began to laugh hysterically.

"Always one for the theatrics, eh Tom?" Gwen said through her gaps for air.

Tom glowered at her, but said nothing as he gracefully slid of the horse and landed lightly in front of her. He was wearing armor that looked like it could have been early Roman or Greek; the armor consisted of a breastplate of silver with a large snake on it in the shape of an S made of emeralds, a forest green leather pleated skirt, silver shin and wrist guards adorned with symbols that mimicked the one of the breastplate, and gladiator style leather sandals. A long green cape was attached to his shoulders, and he carried a curved helmet with a plume of green feathers in it under his arm. He looked quite dashing in it, like an old-fashioned movie star or a painting that had come to life. Tom bowed low and offered his arm to Gwen. She hesitantly accepted, and Tom swung her onto the horse with ease. He then climbed on behind her and grasped the reigns to the horse. The two of them flew down to the dungeon, with Fawkes trailing not far behind.

"So who are you supposed to be?" Tom asked, his breath tickling Gwen slightly on her ear.

"Queen Guinevere. So does that make you King Arthur or Lancelot?" she replied flirtatiously.

"Neither. I am Alexander the Great," he said defensively.

"Ah, how appropriate, that you would pick a man who conquered the known world by the age of thirty. Do you have plans for world domination, Tom?" Gwen asked pointedly as they landed in front of Professor Slughorn's classroom.

Tom didn't answer, but instead guided the horse through the magically enlarged doorway. The classroom itself seemed to be bigger; the walls and ceiling were covered with lavish tapestries and people mingled everywhere. Everyone turned to see Tom and Gwen make their grand entrance, and clapped appreciatively when the graceful horse landed. Professor Slughorn spotted his favorite student, and waddled up to Tom. Tom alighted from the horse and offered a hand to Gwen to help her get off. She thought about resisting, but realized that she would appear rude in front of so many guests. Gingerly she placed her small palm into Tom's larger one, and he pulled her down to the ground gracefully. They stood facing each other for a moment in awkward silence, still holding hands. Professor Slughorn cleared his throat.

"Well, Tom, my boy! What a grand entrance and costume you have! And Miss Morrison, what a pleasure it is to see you as well! I dear say that I didn't expect you two to come together, but what a charming couple you make! Well, are you ready to begin the festivities?" Slughorn boomed.

Tom nodded and released Gwen's hand to follow the Potions Master. As Tom wound his way through the crowd, he didn't notice that his hand was still curled in the position it had been when he had held Gwen's hand. Little did he know that her hand was the same way, curled in the shape of his.


	18. Serpintine Dance

Chapter Eighteen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Serpentine Dance**

_**I feel afraid and I call your name, I love your voice and your dance insane, I hear your words and I know your pain.**_**_  
-__Jeff Buckley_**

Gwen stood alone, next to the white winged horse, and watched the scene unfold before her. People she'd never seen before, more than likely former students with connections to the Ministry or a nice fortune, milled about. A few would incline their heads to acknowledge her, but most people ignored her, not that she minded. The horse nudged her slightly, so she conjured up some sugar cubes and fed it.

"What's your name?" Gwen asked soothingly as she gently rubbed the white winged stallion's neck.

"Pegasus," came the familiar voice of Professor Dumbledore.

"You mean _the_ Pegasus?" Gwen asked disbelievingly.

"Oh, no, not the legendary horse, although the magnificent creature standing before us is a direct descendant of the legendary Pegasus," Dumbledore explained.

"Oh. So how did Tom manage to come by him?" Gwen asked as Pegasus nibbled one of her orchids.

"You'll have to ask Mr. Riddle that. I assume that you two are coming along nicely?" Dumbledore asked as he conjured up an apple to feed Pegasus.

"If you're asking how our 'friendship' is coming along, I'd say we're as close as I'd ever guess we'd be. I still have nightmares about Voldemort, and the depression comes every-so-often, but nothing like those first few weeks. And Tom? I don't know how or if he's changing. He hasn't had any more Death Eater meetings, at least as far as I'm aware. He even offered to tutor me on his own time to make sure I scored well on Professor Slughorn's test. He didn't have to do that, so I guess you could call that a positive change," Gwen stated.

"Very good, very good. Ah, I see that Professor Slughorn is showing off our Mr. Riddle to some of his contacts in the Ministry. Trying to give the boy a foot in the door, no doubt," Dumbledore surmised as he looked over his half moon spectacles to where Slughorn was talking animatedly to a rather bored looking older man, and an even more bored looking Tom.

"Perhaps you should join your date?" Dumbledore asked lightly.

Had he been anyone else, Gwen would have made some sort of nasty comment, but instead she cleared her throat rather roughly and said, "I think I'll get a drink."

But before Gwen could go anywhere, a terrible screech filled the air. Fawkes and another phoenix that Gwen had never seen before were fighting in the air, swooping in and attacking each other with their talons. The other phoenix was much smaller than Fawkes, and had even more elaborate plumage on its tail and wings.

"Fawkes! Come here this instant!" Gwen reprimanded her pet, but he paid her no heed.

The two birds continued their airborne wrestling match, until the other phoenix knocked Fawkes out of the sky. He plummeted to the ground, but not before Dumbledore placed a slowing spell on him. Gwen and the Transfiguration master hurried over to Fawkes, who was squawking indignantly as he lay suspended in the air. The other phoenix sang triumphantly before soaring away and out of sight.

"What was that all about, Albus?" asked Professor Slughorn as he waddled over with Tom and the other man in tow.

"What you have just witnessed, Horace, is one of the rarest occurrences in all of nature. That was the first part in the mating ritual of phoenixes. The other bird, the one that flew away, was a female phoenix. One can always distinguish between the two because like most humans, the female species is the far more decorative and smaller of the two. When two phoenixes are attracted to each other, they fight first, and if the female wins, then the first phase of the mating ritual is over."

"After the initial fight between the two, the phoenixes will pick at each until the male reaches his molting period. Then, the female phoenix will stay with the male bird it reaches its adulthood again. You could say she protects him in his greatest time of weakness or need. Once the birds are at an equal state of adulthood, they will become inseparable. This only happens once every millennium. Phoenix's are extremely loyal, and their bond to each other is impossible to break. It seems as if our resident phoenix, Fawkes, must have found his match," Dumbledore explained pleasantly.

"So Fawkes is going to be married, as it were?" Gwen asked as she patted her bird protectively.

"You could put it that way, I suppose," Dumbledore answered.

"Who owned the female phoenix?" Gwen asked as she looked around.

"That would be me," said the older man that been talking to Professor Slughorn and Tom earlier.

He appeared to be in his early sixties, with salt and pepper hair and a small moustache and olive skin. He was dressed as what Gwen supposed was his idea of a Muggle. His pants were a black and white plaid, while his shirt was lime green with purple polka dots.

"My name is Manfred Ribaldi, first order of Merlin," he said with a slightly Italian accent as he bowed stiffly in greeting. "I must confess that I have never met another person who owned a phoenix, until now, Miss…?"

"Gwen Morrison. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ribaldi. What is your phoenix's name?" Gwen answered demurely.

"Fiona. And you said that your phoenix was called Fawkes? That's a strange name. The only time I've ever heard that name was in reference to Gordic Gryffindor's phoenix. Surely yours can not be the same bird?" Mr. Ribaldi replied.

"Er…" Gwen trailed off as she glanced to Dumbledore for help.

"Spot on my friend, spot on! Why, this delightful young lady here is none other that Gordic Gryffindor's only surviving descendant. Isn't that right, my dear?" boomed Slughorn before Dumbledore could say anything.

Mr. Ribaldi and all the other people surrounding Gwen gasped in awe. Gwen felt herself turn almost purple from embarrassment, and so she immediately looked to the ground and drummed her fingers on her thigh.

"Gordic Gryffindor's only heir? Are you sure Horace?" Ribaldi asked in a whisper.

"Quite, quite. The suite of armor in the Great Hall, Sir Balderdash is it? Yes, well he recognized our Miss Morrison right away after she held up Gryffindor's sword—" Slughorn explained.

"Gryffindor's sword? So it is true! It really does exist!" Ribaldi exclaimed.

"Oh, yes of course! Why, I think Miss Morrison is wearing it right now, aren't you, my dear?" Slughorn said jovially as he clapped Gwen hard on the back.

"Could I see it?" asked Ribaldi with a gleam in his eye.

"Uh…" Gwen stuttered.

"Maybe some other time, Horace. Gwen didn't you say you wanted a drink?" Dumbledore said, finally coming to rescue.

"Yes, yes I did, Professor. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Ribaldi, and I guess we shall have to make arrangements for a 'date' for our phoenixes, no?" Gwen replied smoothly as she edged her way out of the large group that had formed around her.

"Oh, yes, very well then, we will have to do that," Ribaldi replied, a bit crestfallen.

Gwen nodded and smiled a very large and very fake smile before she turned and practically ran to the refreshment table. Once there she grabbed the nearest glass and chugged it down. When she realized that she had nearly swallowed butterbeer, she spat it out, spraying a thin mist on the back of the dress of the person standing in front of her. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, and the hateful figure of Isolde Christensen whipped around to face a guilty looking Gwen.

"Oh, no, this can't be good," Gwen thought to herself as she quickly drew her wand from her belt in a ready defense.

"What did you do to me, you filthy little bi—" Isolde screamed, but she was cut off quickly by the cold voice of Tom Riddle.

"Tsk, tsk, such language, Miss Christensen. What have I told you about holding your tongue?" he chided as he performed a simple cleaning spell that returned Isolde's flapper-era dress to its unblemished state.

"There, you are clean. Miss Morrison, I would advise you to be more careful the next time you decide to sneeze your drink on someone," Tom said as he turned to face Gwen.

Gwen's eyes darted to him and back to Isolde; she wasn't going to take any chances around the Slytherin girl. She still held her wand out at in a defensive position. Tom turned back to Gwen.

"There will be no need for that here," Tom said as he motioned for Gwen to put her wand away.

Gwen looked from him to Isolde, who was smirking. Gwen slowly lowered her wand and returned it to her belt.

"That's right, you know you can't fight me; I always win," Isolde taunted.

"Funny, I remember you attacking me from behind, and only cowards attack from behind. In a fair fight I'd kill you," Gwen snapped back.

"Then why should I fight fair?" Isolde countered.

"That is _quite_ enough. _Both_ of you need to calm down. This is a party, and many important people are here. Miss Christensen, remember what House you are from. You should rise above such petty fights; as a Slytherin you should know better. Miss Morrison, as well all know by now, you have a… famous heritage. Try not to tarnish whatever reputation you might have," Tom commanded.

"Whatever you say, Tom. Why don't we get out of here, who needs _her_ anyway?" Isolde purred suggestively.

"Miss Morrison and I are here together, and we will leave together," Tom stated with finality.

"You came with _her_? Why?" Isolde sneered.

Tom set his jaw in obvious anger, and motioned for Isolde to follow him. He led her away from Gwen and out of hearing range. He rounded on Isolde once they were off in a corner by themselves, his eyes dangerously burning with a slight crimson flame.

"What I do and who I do it with is no concern of _yours_. _I_ make the decisions, not _you_. You are a follower, a servant, nothing more. Never question my actions or me ever again. I will not have this conversation with you again; do I make myself clear? Question me again and the consequences will be so severe you will pray to have never been born," Tom hissed before he turned sharply on his heel and returned to Gwen.

"I believe the dance is about to begin. We should get on the floor," he said as though reading a statistic out of a book.

"I don't dance," Gwen replied flatly.

"This is a ball, therefore you _will_ dance," he demanded as he grabbed her buy the elbow and lead her onto the floor.

"Yes, _mother_," Gwen snapped hatefully.

They were the first on the dance floor, facing each other much in the same way as though they were dueling. The music began; it was a fast, slightly Spanish flavored song. Tom grabbed Gwen by the hand, and swung her around violently as the music began to pick up the tempo.

"I'm not a rag doll, and I would prefer not to get vertigo, _thank you very much_," Gwen said as she tried to get Tom to slow down.

He didn't.

"Oh, come, come now, Miss Morrison, we are having fun, remember?" Tom mocked as he pulled her in close to him, their heads about two inches from each other.

"_Fun_? You don't know the meaning of the word!" Gwen retorted.

"_Ouch_. You wound me, Miss Morrison," Tom replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

He twirled her around some more, and she began to feel nauseous. Fortunately, the song ended, and Tom stopped throwing her around like a sack of potatoes. Professor Slughorn stepped up to the podium that had been erected where his desk should have been. Pulling out his wand, the Potions master magically enhanced his voice so that it would carry across the cavernous room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to introduce to you tonight's musical guest of honor. I'm sure many of you are familiar with the young man I am about to introduce, and how could you not be? His phenomenal voice is recognized across the Wizarding World for its strength and sheer beauty. I have been a fan of his for quite some time, and modestly speaking, of course, I consider myself to be quite the music connoisseur, and his star is at the top. Please, without further adieu, please help me welcome to the stage Mr. Joshua Urbanite," Slughorn bellowed as he clapped his pudgy hands together.

A tall, lanky young man in his mid twenties stepped on the stage. He had large brown eyes, glasses, and a head full of chestnut curls. He smiled shyly at the crowed, and then turned to face the conductor of the orchestra.

Slowly, the tinkling of a piano sounded, and soon the strings joined in, humming softly. Joshua opened his mouth, and out came the most beautiful, clear, strong, and deeply resonant voice Gwen had ever heard in her life. If the Phantom of the Opera had ever existed, surely this is what he must have sounded like—the Angel of Music. Gwen watched as the other couples drew in closer together, swaying back and forth in the comfort of each other's arms. She looked back at Tom, who was watching her with dark, glittering eyes. She slowly reached up and took a hold of his outstretched palm, and placed her other hand on his shoulder. They stood at arms length from each other, although Tom had to bend down a bit to reach Gwen's waist. They danced like this until the music stopped. As soon as the song was over, they pulled away from each other and clapped politely with the other guests.

The orchestra started again, and Joshua began to sing another song. The lyrics, Gwen thought, were quite possibly the most beautiful and romantic she had heard in a long time. At the chorus the orchestra swelled with grace, and Joshua's voice rang out over it, giving Gwen goose bumps. The song finished much too soon to Gwen's liking, but Tom still held onto her waist, staring intently into her eyes. Until that moment, she didn't realize it, but she had her arms wrapped securely around his broad shoulders, and her fingers were entwined in his thick hair. They stayed like that for a few moments, until Tom tore his gaze away from her's. He gingerly pulled away, his fingers reluctant to leave her warm flesh. Gwen could feel her cheeks reddening with a heat unlike any she had ever felt before.

"I need a drink," she said softly, as she walked away to get a class of ice water.

"Me too," Tom breathed, his eyes locked firmly on Gwen.

**_NOTE: _**

**_For the song Joshua Urbanine aka Josh Groban sings, I suggest you find a clip of the song called "For Always." There are two versions of the song, one with just Josh singing, and one with him and a lady named Laura Fabian singing. Get the one with just Josh, because it's better. If you can't find it, at least look up the words._**


	19. Under The Mistletoe

Chapter Nineteen

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness **

**Under the Mistletoe**

**_Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful._****_  
- _****_Norman Vincent Peale_**

Tom and Gwen never set foot on the dance floor again, but instead spent the rest of the night apart, mingling with separate friends and chatting, trying to forget whatever it was that had passed between them. Gwen spotted Samantha Joel, who was dressed as her favorite Qudditch player. The two of them stood together, making snide comments about other people at the party— a very Slytherin action for the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw. Tom meandered over to where Isolde, Abraxas Malfoy and a few other Slytherins were sulking in the corner. Isolde was retelling the story of how Gwen had spilled butterbeer on her, but Isolde made it sound like Gwen had dumped an entire keg of butterbeer on her dress.

"That is not what happened, and you know it, Miss Christensen. Really, if you are going to tell a lie, at least make it believable," Tom drawled.

Isolde looked like he had slapped her across the face, but Abraxas and the other Slytherins laughed. Tom smirked cruelly; Isolde was one of his least favorite followers, and he delighted in embarrassing her.

Every so often his eyes flicked to where Gwen was standing, laughing at something Samantha had said. Gwen wasn't exactly what one could call beautiful, yet there was something about her that kept attracting his eyes to her. Whatever it was, Tom didn't like the fact that he had acted so…so impractical with her on the dance floor. Really, did he have to twirl her around like that? He could have just held her at arms length and swayed back and forth.

But that would have been ordinary, and he detested anything remotely ordinary, like his name. _Tom_. It was such a common name. Why couldn't he have had an exotic name, something that people would remember? Ah, but he did have such a name, and a title to go with it. He was Lord Voldemort, the darkest and most powerful wizard the world had ever seen or would ever see. He just needed to bide his time, and all would go according to his meticulously laid plans. Yet…no, that was just a doubt, a passing fancy. He shook his head. He wouldn't let that thought, that nagging little voice that grew obnoxiously loud when he was with Gwen; keep him from his lifelong goal.

"Are you ready to leave?" Tom asked Gwen from where he was standing behind her.

The party was winding down; Joshua had finished his concert to thunderous applause, and the orchestra was packing up to leave.

"What time is it?" Gwen asked.

"Five minutes until midnight," Tom replied.

"I suppose we should go then," Gwen replied despondently.

She was having a surprisingly good time at the party, and was rather reluctant to leave. She waved goodbye to Samantha and turned to leave with Tom, when she realized she didn't know where Fawkes was. The last time she had seen him was when she had gone to the refreshment table the first time, the time when she had spilled the butterbeer on Isolde.

"Fawkes! Fawkes, where are you?" Gwen called, whistling for him.

"I believe that your precious little songbird has gone off with his girlfriend," Tom smirked.

Gwen glared at him sideways, but continued in her search. Finally, she came to a corner of the room where Fawkes and Fiona were perched atop a tapestry, each nipping at each other.

"Fawkes, Fawkes, come here," Gwen cooed.

The phoenix ignored her, and continued to play fight with Fiona. Tom crossed his arms over his chest, and huffed in frustrations. After a few more pleas from Gwen for Fawkes to come down, Tom pulled out his wand and summoned the bird to her. Fawkes squawked in anger, and attempted to bite Gwen.

She thumped him on his beak, saying, "Fawkes! No! You don't bight Mommy!"

Tom laughed, this time it was a true laugh, not his usually mirthless, high pitched hollow laugh.

"_Mommy_?" he snorted. "You call yourself Mommy in reference to that parrot?"

"I'll have you know that Fawkes is much more than a mere parrot, and yes, I do have call myself 'Mommy' when talking to him. Do you have a problem with that?" Gwen snapped as she walked with Tom.

"I just never thought of you as one of those prattling little girls that go by silly nicknames," he said, shrugging.

"Mommy isn't a silly nickname," Gwen said with a hint of uncertainty.

"It is if you use it in reference to yourself when talking to a bird," Tom replied.

"Where's Pegasus?" Gwen asked, changing the subject as they neared the doorway.

"It seems that Mr. Malfoy senior was very anxious to get his horse back, therefore Mr. Malfoy the younger is returning Pegasus for me. Rather polite of him, would you agree?" Tom said, holding the door open for Gwen.

"So we're just going to walk back to the dorms, then?" Gwen asked. "What a lackluster exit, after our grand entrance," she said with a small, twinkling smile.

"Better to make a grand entrance and a small exit, leaving people wondering where you went than nothing at all," Tom said loftily.

"Tom, really sometimes I worry about you; you sound like an old man. Lighten up. You don't have to take everything so seriously," Gwen murmured, patting him on the elbow slightly. "And since when did Alexander the Great wear green and silver, with little snakes in the shape of an S?" she asked playfully.

"The S is supposed to symbolize strength and courage, while green and silver are obviously, the colors of my House. Really, do you think I would actually walk around in red and gold, just because they are the supposed colors of conquerors?" Tom replied with sarcasm in his voice. "And as far as worrying about me, why waste your time? I did not achieve my position without being the way I am. I cannot afford to 'lighten up', as you put it."

They continued up the stairs, passing a few ghosts on the way. Finally, they reached the landing in front of Gryffindor tower.

"Here, we have arrived at your portrait hole. Until you return from break and we meet again, good night Miss Morrison, and Happy Christmas," he said firmly, yet softly, as he held her hand up to kiss it formally.

"I'm not going anywhere, Tom," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, still holding her hand, looking at her incredulously. "Christmas break starts tomorrow. You have a family to see, presents to unwrap, and relatives to tolerate. All the normal things one is supposed to do on such a _happy_ holiday," he said with bitter irony laced in his silky voice.

Gwen pulled her hand away slowly, and looked down, sighing. It was no use. She would have to tell him, and now was as good a time as ever.

"I'm an orphan, Tom. I don't have a family to go to. I'm staying here at Hogwarts because there is nowhere else for me to go," she said slowly, glancing up to look at him.

His expression was inscrutable, eyes dark and cold. Fawkes cooed softly from where he was perched on the stair railing.

"Good night Miss Morrison," he said curtly, before turning to leave.

"That went well," Gwen thought cynically. "Might as well have gotten out the sad, sappy piano music to go with it," she snorted and shook her head. "Really Gwen, you can be such a 'woe is me' drama queen sometimes," she muttered to herself.

Gwen gave the password, _eggnog_, to the Fat Lady, who looked like she was a bit tipsy with the festive drink herself. She giggled and allowed Gwen to enter. Gwen yawned as she slowly trooped in; the fire in the common room had died down to softly glowing embers. Fawkes flew in and up to the girls' dormitory. Gwen shuffled up the stairs, taking care to not trip on her long dress. She entered the dorm room to be met with the eager eyes of Shalini, Emma, and Lola.

"Well, how did it go?" Emma asked pleasantly.

"Yeah, did ya snog him under the mistletoe?" Lola asked with her usual bluntness.

Gwen rolled eyes and shook her head tiredly.

"Lola, I'm _so_ _not_ in the mood for it right now," Gwen grumbled as she walked over to the wardrobe. "Let me change and then I'll tell you about it," Gwen mumbled.

Ten minutes later she returned from the bathroom in her plain navy blue flannel pajamas. She hung up the dress on the outside of her wardrobe with a note asking Dinky to return it to Abigail. The orchids were still in her hair, and besides the one that Pegasus had eaten they were perfectly intact. Gwen sat down in front of Shalini, who began to unthread the orchids from Gwen's russet colored hair.

"So…about the party…" Emma pressed.

"Well, where do you want me to start?" Gwen asked as she yawned openly, rubbing her blood-shocked eyes.

"How about after he picked up in that fabulous flying horse?" Emma suggested.

"Alright, well after we arrived…" Gwen told the story of her adventure at the party, but glossed over the dancing part; she didn't want to reveal her feelings during that part, especially when she wasn't sure of those feelings herself.

"Sounds like you had a great time, even with the butterbeer spilling incident," Emma said.

Gwen yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time and nodded. Shalini had finished pulling the orchids from her hair. Gwen took them from her and conjured a glass of water to put them in.

"Well, I'm going to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning," Gwen murmured and she tumbled into bed.

"Have fun and write me when you can! Merry Christmas!" Gwen shouted as she waved goodbye to the disappearing coaches carrying her friends.

Gwen stood on the stone steps of the castle, watching as her only "family" disappeared in the frosty distance. Her breath formed a wispy white cloud around her as she breathed in slowly. Christmas, even though it had become over hyped with materialism, was still one of her favorite times of the year. The cotton-like snow on the ground, her crystallized breath, and the intangible feeling of hope in the air, she loved it all. Gwen slowly strolled down the steps and onto the grounds. Hogwarts looked awe inspiring in the weak winter sunlight; it rose majestically on the hill, appearing massive and imposing with its many turrets covered in snow. Gwen walked to the lake and peered at her distorted reflection in the ice. She made a funny face, crossing her eyes and scrunching her nose. She spent the rest of the morning, exploring the grounds. Finally, at noon, she went into the Great Hall for lunch. She was the only one in there, save for a few first and second year Hufflepuffs.

Gwen ate in oppressive silence, her eyes roving around the room. After she finished, she walked to the library, but she became instantly bored. Not one book jumped out at her and grabbed her attention. She sighed. What would she do now? She couldn't just wander aimlessly around the castle for the entire duration of the break. Maybe she could sneak into the kitchens and see Dinky, although Gwen could only stand her presence for a small period of time. Gwen trudged back to Gryffindor tower. It was only one o'clock when she glanced at her watch as she flopped down in the common room. Five minutes later Gwen stood up, exhaling loudly. She had never been so bored in her _entire_ life.

"What on earth am I going to do?" Gwen thought despondently.

She paced about the room, stopping ever so often to stoke the fire and glance out the window. On about her fourth trip around the common room, she noticed a tiny dot of a person walking on the grounds. Whoever it was walked quickly and with power.

"Tom," Gwen surmised.

Tom made his way to the lake, where he disappeared under the foliage that bowed over the frozen water. Gwen waited a few minutes, wondering if he would reappear again. When he didn't, she frowned a bit. She waited a few minutes more, but her curiosity was too strong. She grabbed her scarf and wound it around her neck and placed her black fedora on her head. She stood still in a moment of indecision, but squared her shoulders and sauntered out of the portrait hole. Gwen wound her way down the stairs, taking the same shortcut she had taken to save Cyrnic in the Room of Requirements. After ten minutes, she reached the bottom floor, and it took her five more minutes to reach the spot where she thought Tom was. However, he was not there, although a clear spot in the snow indicated where he had evidently sat down. Gwen circled around the area, looking for him in the brush.

"Looking for something, Miss Morrison?" came Tom's liquid smooth voice from behind.

Gwen spun around, and almost pulled out her wand, but thought better of it.

"Yes, _someone_, to be precise. Perhaps you could help me look for him?" Gwen asked with a hint of mischief.

Tom looked at her with confusion, but then he realized that she was joking.

"Describe the missing person in question so that I will know who I am looking for," he said, all business.

"Well, he's about your height, with black hair and a really pale complexion. He looks like he's never been in the sun in his life, and he always walks around like this," Gwen said as she imitated Tom's long, purposeful strides.

"Ah, I see. Does this person have a name?" Tom asked as he watched Gwen prance around him.

"Yes, in fact he does. He goes by the name of 'Mr. Royal-Pain-In-The-Ass-Overachiever' but I simply refer to him as…Tom," she answered.

"Tom?" he asked her with a skeptical look. "Is that the best you could come up with?"

"Perhaps you think he'd prefer Tommy boy, or Tommy dearest? Or how about Tom-Tom? Snookers? Huggy bear? Sweetie pie? Cutie patootie? Honey buns? Lo—" she was about to continue her list of sickeningly sweet pet names, but Tom cut her off.

"I think he would prefer just Tom. So, now that we have established the identity of the missing person, may I inquire as to the reason why you are seeking this person?" Tom replied.

"Well, you see, I saw him walking around near here, and then he disappeared for a long time. I thought he might be in trouble, so I followed, and then I met you," Gwen said with fake sincerity.

"What made you think he was in trouble? Could he not be simply walking around, enjoying the scenery?" Tom inquired with a raised eyebrow, taking a step closer to Gwen.

"Uh, well, maybe trouble was the wrong word to use. Angry might be a better term. You see, the last time he and I spoke, he seemed a bit perturbed when I told him some very personal information. He just sort of walked off, leaving me there. So, when I saw him today I thought that I would apologize for offending him," Gwen said rapidly, her breath coming in spurts.

"What makes you think you offended him?" Tom asked tightly.

"Well, like I said, he did leave rather abruptly," Gwen explained.

"Perhaps he was tired and needed to sleep," Tom suggested.

"Maybe, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to me like he was hurt, or confused," Gwen replied.

"It was probably just the moonlight," Tom said flippantly with a wave of his hand.

"I don't think so, but whatever you say. You seem to know a lot about Tom, have you met him before?" Gwen asked, her playful tone returning.

"Many a time. One could say that he is my closest friend. My only friend, rather," Tom said rather coldly.

"That's too bad, that you don't have any friends. Friends are a good thing to have," Gwen said patronizingly.

"Are they really? And where would I find such a friend?" Tom grumbled.

"Not to be cliché, but friends are often found in the strangest of places," Gwen answered gently.

"Such as?" Tom asked as he stifled a yawn.

"Well, how about under the mistletoe?" Gwen said as she looked up at the white-berried plant dangling overhead.


	20. A Little Less Conversation

Chapter Twenty

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**A Little Less Conversation**

**_Every step in personal growth needs isolation, needs inner conversation and deliberation and a reviewing with the self._**

**_-Joost A.M. Meerloo_**

Gwen instantly paled in horror when she realized what she had just said, and more importantly, _whom _she had said it to. She had just offered her friendship to Tom Riddle, future Dark Lord, evil incarnate. Tom, for his part, looked quite taken aback at her brashness. Gwen mentally kicked herself for being so forward.

"_YOU ARE AN IDIOT!_" her brain screamed at her so loudly Gwen was sure Tom could hear. "What the _hell_ do think you are _doing_? He will laugh in your face you numbskull! You just don't go up to the most evil wizard EVER and say 'Hey, why don't we be friends?' like he'll say, 'Oh golly gee whiz! I've always wanted to have a friend! That's why I'm so lonely and mad and want to take over the ENTIRE FREAKING WORLD!' GAH! Gwen, you really have opened your mouth and inserted your entire foot in it! Moron."

"Come again?" Tom asked sharply, his crisp voice instantly ending the mental thrashing Gwen was giving herself.

Gwen gaped a few moments, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come up with a viable excuse. Unfortunately, her mind went completely blank, and she said nothing.

"What makes you think I _need_ or even _want_ your friendship?" Tom asked with a dangerously flat tone.

"I…I…" Gwen sputtered.

"Friendship makes people _weak_. Friends are _pointless_; they only serve to derail you from whatever it is you want to accomplish. That is the problem with you Gryffindors and the rest of the school; you are all weak, you think that by _love _and friendship are the highest forms of supremacy. Well let me enlighten you, _almighty heiress of Gryffindor_. There is only one thing that matters in this world: power. There is no such thing as love, friendship or kindness; there is only power and those who are wise and strong enough to grasp it. So in response to your question, no, I do not want your friendship, nor shall I ever," Tom said as his eyes flashed with some sort of pent up emotion.

As he turned to leave, Gwen cleared her throat loudly. She'd regained her wits by now, and she was angry. How dare he insult her so, especially after last night when he was so…so…gentlemanly!

"How do you know love doesn't exist? Do you have any proof of that? Have you conducted an experiment with your little cauldron to prove that assertion? Or do you deny love's existence because you have never experienced it yourself?" she asked with an edge to her voice.

Tom turned around to look at her, his jaw clinched in anger. Gwen knew she had hit a nerve.

"You know _nothing_ about me and what I have and have not experienced. _Nothing_!" he hissed.

"Enlighten me, then. What have you endured that is so terrible to cause you to put up this facade? You feel more than you let on Tom— I can sense it. Don't be so foolish to believe that the mask of charm, intellect and control fools everyone, because it doesn't. Something or someone has hurt you deeply to cause you to act this way as a self-defense. Tell me what happened," Gwen asked calmly.

"Why good could that possibly do me? You are probably the last person this side of Dumbledore that I would go to if I had a problem, which I do not. Good day!" he snapped before turning again to leave.

"I'm only offering you my friendship because I understand you a lot more than you think. I know what it is like to feel abandoned, forgotten. I know what it is like to hate the world and want to punish anyone and everyone who annoys you and hurts you. Contrary to popular belief, I actually give a _damn_ about you Tom, _loath_, as I am to admit it. Sure, I may kick your ass at dueling and Transfiguration, and make snide comments about you to your face, but I actually do…care, for lack of a better word. So come off that high horse of yours and mingle here with the rest of us mere mortals. You might actually like not having a pole up your ass. I wouldn't offer you my friendship unless I really meant it," Gwen said with conviction.

Tom just stared at her, his fathomless eyes boring into hers. Gwen suddenly felt the uncomfortable feeling of Tom clawing through her mind, shifting through her most recent memories. She immediately shut him out, but not before he caught a glimpse that her intentions were truly honorable. This did nothing to improve his mood, as evidence by the sour look on his face.

"It's not very nice to invade someone's mind without their permission," Gwen said quietly.

"So you see why we should not be friends, then," Tom said stiffly, before turning to walk away.

He was about halfway to the castle when Gwen's voice floated up to him from behind.

"The offer still stands, you know."

Tom looked back, but he saw no one. Shrugging, he stomped into the castle, stopping to brush the snow off his shoes before he swept down to the Slytherin common room. There he sat alone in the damp and oppressive silence. Even though there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, no warmth seemed to come from it. Tom shivered slightly and pulled his slightly threadbare coat closer to him. He hated walking around in such rags, but what was a poor orphan supposed to do? True, he could always intimidate one of his followers into giving him a proper coat, but Tom didn't want the stench of anyone else's jacket on him. There was always the option of having someone buy him a coat; Malfoy could do it, his family certainly had cash to spare. Yet Tom didn't care for that option either; having someone buy him something was like charity, and he _hated_ charity.

And Gwen, he hated her too. Her words kept echoing in his head like a really bad yet catchy song that wouldn't stop. Could they be friends? What he had said was true; he'd never had friends and really saw no need for them. Yet…that blasted voice in his head was urging him to take her up on her offer. Gwen was quite unlike any other female he had ever met, and she grated on his every last nerve.

No, not every nerve, just most of them. Truth was, Tom secretly enjoyed their conversations; Gwen had a lightening quick wit and sarcasm to rival his own. True, she was nowhere near as intelligent as he was, but then again, he was a genius. Yet she was Gryffindor's heir, the embodiment of everything he was supposed to hate and stand against. Hell, she had ridiculed him time and time again, but Tom had a sneaking suspicion that she was joking during most of those times. No matter, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle, heir of the noble Salazar Slytherin, and therefore could never be friends with the likes of her.

"Ah, my dear Tom, are you so dense that you can't remember?" the Voice said.

"Go away! I have no time for you!" Tom mumbled to himself.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, my boy. I'm here to remind you that Salazar Slytherin and Gordic Gryffindor were once friends. You wouldn't be here in this beloved school of yours if they weren't," the Voice whispered calmly in his head.

"But that was long ago, and everyone knows that they ended up hating each other just because Gryffindor would not see the power of the Dark Arts, the imbecile," Tom argued back.

"That may be true, and what a shame it is. Two of the greatest wizards of all time giving up on their friendship just because they had different approaches to things. Truly tragic. Pity there isn't a way to resolve that old feud, once and for all. Imagine the possibilities if the two only surviving heirs of the school's founders were able reconcile old differences!" the Voice urged.

"For example?" Tom asked skeptically.

"Oh, I don't know specifically, but that's what you can always find out! You could invent some unknown branch of magic or something!" the Voice replied.

"Do not listen to him Tom, he knows nothing. That girl will never be able to understand the vast complexities of magic like you do, like _we_ do. She will only bring us down, stifle the work that we have only just begun. Why, she has already delayed our meetings with our servants; we have only met with them once! How can they learn without us there to teach them, to instruct them in the beauty of the Dark Arts?" a sinister, cold Voice whispered in the other side of Tom's brain.

"I…yes, yes of course your right, I will schedule another meeting, right after Malfoy brings me—us—the perpetrator from the last incident. I…I just need more time. I must have all the facts," Tom pleaded with this second voice.

"Ah, that is where you are wrong, Tom. You have too much faith in the underlings. If they were actually capable of any thought on their own, we would not need them, would they? No, you cannot wait any longer for that pompous little brat Malfoy. If you truly want to find out who _dared_ sabotage our plans, you must do it yourself. Precious time is wasting; the year is half over, and you have not even found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets yet! Instead, you cavort with that damnable Gryffindor girl! If Salazar knew, he would turn over in his grave! And you call yourself his rightful heir, but instead, you are a traitor! You have become obsessed with her, and it is only bringing you down, severing our connection. Remember, without me, you are _nothing_," the cold voice raged in his head.

Tom's long, pale hands trembled slightly at this latest berating, causing him to drop the quill that he had been using.

"I am not obsessed with her," he whispered out loud.

* * *

That night in the Great Hall, Gwen walked in to find the Hufflepuffs already eating. To her great surprise, Gwen spotted Tom sitting alone at the head of the Slytherin table. Pity swelled in her heart as she saw him sitting there, alone and forlorn. She should have been angry with him, disgusted at his blatant rudeness to her earlier. Yet she wasn't angry, instead she felt incredibly sad that he had chosen to once again close himself off from human contact.

She had just realized it that day, at that moment when she had told him she cared about him that her words were true. She had returned to the Gryffindor common room, hurt, embarrassed and confused. Why had she told him that? When had her feelings developed beyond loathing and hatred? She had sat for hours contemplating all that transpired since her travel back in time. Gwen, although headstrong and proud, was capable of admitting when she was wrong. She had been lying to herself and to her friends for weeks now, months even. The memory of Voldemort in the pensieve had long since faded, faded faster than it should have, and only Tom remained. Tom was just a boy, a boy with tremendous abilities and no one to help him channel them. How he had become the Dark Lord had never been clearer to Gwen than that afternoon. She realized that he and Voldemort were two different people, stuck in the same body. Voldemort was the evil in Tom, the evil part that everyone had, on Tom had failed to control him like most people. Voldemort although a part of Tom, was not the true Tom. Tom's evolution into evil incarnate was all apart of an elaborately created defense mechanism, a juggernaut that had started out slow and then spiraled out of control. Gwen was determined to break that mechanism, one spoke at a time.

"Mind if I sit here? I really don't want sit with the baby Hufflepuffs," Gwen asked lightly as she stood in front of Tom.

Tom looked up from where he had been picking at his food. He seemed paler, if that were possible, and thinner, more drawn. His eyes had large, gray bags under them, signs of fatigue and worry. He stared at her like she was a ghost, an apparition of a long lost foe come back to haunt him for the rest of his days.

"No."

"Is that a no you don't mind if I sit here, or a no, I can't sit here?" Gwen asked timidly.

"No, you cannot sit here. You have your own table to sit at, to be queen over. Why would you want to sit with me? I thought our conversation earlier today clearly demonstrated that we should have nothing to do with each other, outside of school formalities. Or did I not make myself clear enough?" he asked with a halfhearted attempt at rudeness, but instead he only betrayed his overwhelming loneliness.

"Alright, I'll go sit at the Gryffindor table, if that's what you want," she said softly.

"What, no snide remarks? No attempts at a rousing idealistic speech about how we should sit together and be friends?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, not tonight," Gwen replied wearily.

She turned to leave without another word, and passed by the staff table on her way to the Gryffindor table. She caught Dumbledore's eye as she passed, and he twinkled at her. She smiled back and continued on her way. Once she sat down, a plate of food appeared in front of her, composed of one of her favorite meals—roast chicken, green beans and potatoes. Gwen smiled in anticipation of the mouth-watering food; she knew that Dinky had probably taken great care in preparing it. Gwen munched happily for a few minutes, but as she reached for her glass of pumpkin juice, she felt the familiar presence of Tom Riddle approaching. She tried to be oblivious of him, but she felt a strange leap in her stomach, which she attributed to eating too fast.

"When you are finished gorging yourself, and if you have nothing better to do after dinner, which I doubt, come to the Potions classroom. I can help you get ahead so that you will not be completely lost once school resumes after this interminable holiday. Bring your books, please," Tom said from behind her, as he stared down at the top of her head.

Gwen did not turn around to face him, but merely bobbed her head in agreement. Spending an evening with Tom in the Potions classroom was not exactly her idea of a good way to spend her Christmas holiday, but it was better than pacing around in the Gryffindor common room, bored.

Tom stood staring at her a little longer, and then turned and waltzed out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons. He knew that he would be in for it from that cold, vicious Voice, while the annoyingly pleasant Voice would be quite elated that Tom had decided to spend yet another evening with Gwen. But Tom had managed to convince himself that he could turn her into one of his most loyal and dangerous followers. Deep down, though, in his subconscious, he knew that was highly unlikely, down right impossible, but he needed a reason to rationalize his need to see her again, to teach her. He needed to be near her, in an environment where he had control. Tom didn't trust himself with her in any other way.

Twenty minutes later, Gwen walked into the Potions classroom, with her Advanced Potions textbook in hand. She found Tom hovering over a pleasantly bubbling cauldron. She sat her book aside and stood next to him, peering over his arm to see what he was cooking. He was carefully stirring a pinkish red liquid that smelled slightly of raspberries.

"Pass the rosemary," he instructed.

Gwen handed him the bottle of the herb, and he carefully poured in four cloves of it. He then handed the rosemary back to Gwen, who returned it to the group of ingredients Tom had set out. The ingredients were arranged by alphabetical order, and each bottle was carefully aligned with the other. Typical Tom Riddle, always so neat and organized.

"Whatcha making?" she asked pleasantly.

"Wolfsbane," he answered shortly.

"Really? Since when did you know any werewolves?" she asked in mock surprise.

"I have never met a werewolf before. You know that is not a thing one generally goes around advertising," he responded.

"True," Gwen replied thoughtfully.

They stood together in silence, with Tom occasionally asking her to hand him certain ingredients. Gwen took notes, and about two hours later, they were finished. Tom bottled up the potion, and slipped it into his robes, while Gwen put away the ingredients and cauldron in the cabinet. She glanced at her watch; it was ten thirty, but she could have sworn it was later, due to how tired she was.

Tom waited patiently by the door for her, and walked back to Gryffindor tower with her. They chatted quietly about trivial things, neither willing to laps into another uncomfortable silence. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Tom cleared his throat, as though to say something important.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I don't know, I might go back up to the library to see if I can find anything interesting to read, but I doubt I will. Something about reading textbooks over a holiday seems wrong," she answered.

"Really? What is so wrong about reading over a holiday? Learning is never wrong," he said incredulously.

Gwen smiled ever so slightly, and replied, "I figured you would say something like that."

"How so?" he asked.

"You're a bookworm at heart," she said, this time laughing a little.

Tom shivered at the sound of her laughter. It was rich and loud and natural, like a swiftly moving river. It shouldn't have cut through to his very core, warming him like the first rays of sunlight at dawn did the damp earth, but it did. His hand twitched at his side, an unconscious movement that meant much more than a simple muscle jerk. Gwen cocked an eyebrow at him in curiosity. Why was he so jump all of the sudden? She squinted to try and read his expression, but his face was partially hidden by shadow; she could only see the outline of his razor sharp cheekbones and the glitter of his eyes.

"Yes, I suppose I am a bit of a bookworm," he said slowly, his mouth moving in the darkness so that the sound of his words seemed to come from the air itself.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Gwen smirked. "After all, we wouldn't want our future Head Boy to not read every book in the library, studying all the time instead of having fun, now, would we? No, no, that would be awful!" she said in mock shock.

"That is not true, I do have fun," he protested.

"Really, when?" she asked, hands on her hips and an amused smile on her face.

"When I am with you," he said so quietly Gwen was not even sure he had truly said it.

The next thing she heard was the sound of his footsteps moving rapidly down the stairs.


	21. In The Libarary

Chapter Twenty One

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**In the Library**

_**When love is not madness, it is not love.**_

_**-Pedro Calderon de la Barca**_

Tom could barely make it down to the Slytherin common room before the Voices stared blaring in his head. He stumbled down the hall, weaving drunkenly while clutching his head.

"What was _that_?" demanded the cold, high-pitched Voice in a malicious hiss. "What do you think you are doing? I thought I told you to break off all contact with that girl, and here you are, _flirting_ with her! What, do you think that she might actually _love_ you?" the Voice cackled with hateful glee. "No one loves you Tom, _no one_. Love does _not_ exist, only _power_. No one can love you, but they can _fear_ you, _fear us_, if only you will let _me_ take over. _Trust me_," it hissed.

"That's complete rubbish and you know it Tom. That little hate mongering prat over there needs to take a chill pill. Love can and _does_ exist, if only you will let it. Who knows? You might actually _like_ it," the annoyingly idealistic Voice retorted.

Tom managed to slur the password to the portrait guarding the entrance to the common room and claw his way to a couch in the middle of the common room. He collapsed on the floor, pulling at his thick hair and screaming to be left alone.

"Get out of my mind; I do not need either one of you! I am capable of making my own decisions, and I certainly do not need any input from the lot of you! GO AWAY!" he shrieked breathlessly.

"I'm hurt that you would treat me so _rudely_," scoffed the optimistic Voice before it harrumphed and remained in a moody silence.

"You will regret this Tom. I make you who you are, remember that. Without me, you are _nothing_," the other Voice hissed before it too disappeared.

Tom shakily removed the bottle of Wolfsbane from his robes and gulped it down. The blood red liquid tasted awful and Tom nearly retched from the stench but he swallowed it anyway. He had read in one of the books from the Restricted Section that Wolfsbane not only suppressed the werewolf in a person, but could also be used to suppress schizophrenic tendencies.

This was by far the worst attack Tom had ever experienced, and it left him so exhausted that he passed out in the middle of the common room floor. He slept restlessly, tossing and turning, his mind plagued with visions of a serpentine man with scarlet eyes sitting in a high backed leather chair, much like the one Tom loved to sit in next to the fireplace. Tom was standing behind the man, nervously tapping his foot. Suddenly, two hooded figures with skull masks brought in a struggling figure. The captured person was definitely female, and a rather diminutive one at that. She cursed and flailed valiantly, but she was instantly subdued when the seated snake-man cast the torture curse on her. She twitched violently in pain, causing the hood covering her face to fall off. It was Gwen. She screamed for Tom to help her, but he stood there, rooted to the ground in horror. The seated man laughed a frighteningly high-pitched and cold laugh. The laughter caused Tom to jolt awake.

He sat up and wiped the cold sweat that was pouring profusely from his forehead. He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was only half past midnight. The fire had died down to low burning embers that glowed with a red-gold flame.

He staggered to his feet, but instantly sank to his knees due to the horrible pounding in his head. It felt like he gotten into a fight with the Hogwarts Express and lost miserably. He rubbed his temple to try and relieve some of the pain, but this only seemed to aggravate the throbbing. Tom breathed in slowly, trying to get more oxygen to his brain. When the room stopped wobbling, he gingerly stood up and groped his way to the boy's dorm. There he tumbled into bed, not bothering to remove his school clothes. He reached for his wand and barely managed to summon his bottle of Dreamless Sleeping Draught from his trunk. Tom took a drink from the heavy leaded glass bottle and then levitated the bottle back into his trunk as his eyelids drooped heavily. He didn't wake until ten in the morning the next day.

Gwen slept much better than Tom, but that's only because she immediately took a sip of her Dreamless Sleeping Drought, as had become her habit since Dumbledore showed her Voldemort in the pensieve. She had rushed up the stairs and into her dorm, heart beating madly and cheeks flushed. She changed quickly, trying to clear her mind from the dizzying swirl of thoughts and emotions passing through it.

Had Tom really admitted to her that he enjoyed her company? What did that mean? Surely he wasn't falling in love with her, was he? Wasn't he supposed to be incapable of love?

* * *

She woke up that morning with a slight headache and a profound sense of loneliness. She missed the sounds of her friends waking up in the morning, getting ready for the day. Gwen slid out of bed and went to the bathroom. Her footsteps seemed to make a deafening noise as she padded across the empty bathroom. Time seemed to drag as she readied herself for the day. 

At breakfast that morning Gwen ate alone, not even the baby Hufflepuffs were there; they were probably still asleep, after all it was only eight thirty in the morning. Professor Robbins, the Ancient Runes professor who had helped Gwen decipher her belt, walked in and waved pleasantly to Gwen.

"Up rather early, this morning, aren't we?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose that I am," Gwen replied quietly.

"Ah, well, early to bed and earlier to rise makes a man happy, healthy and wise, or so the saying goes. Well, have a good breakfast and a happy Christmas!" he said cheerfully as he walked to the staff table and seated himself.

After finishing her breakfast, Gwen returned to her dorm to brush her teeth and finish doing her hair. As she came out of the bathroom, Gwen noticed a small note on her bed. How it got there, Gwen didn't know, but she suspected Dinky had something to do with it. Gingerly, Gwen picked up the note, knowing full well who it was from. Sure enough, she opened the plain white piece of paper to reveal the dainty script of Tom Riddle. Gwen had become so accustomed to his handwriting that she was sure she knew it better than her own.

_**Miss Morrison,**_

_**Meet me in the library at eleven o'clock. I know of some insightful books you might find interesting. **_

_**Tom Marvolo Riddle**_

Gwen held the letter in front of her, staring off into space. A small smile slowly crossed her face, turning into a full-fledged grin. She stuffed the letter into her trunk with the others, blew a kiss to Fawkes, and walked out the portrait hole humming an unrecognizable tune in her thin and off key voice.

Upon arrive at the library a fait sound reached Gwen's ears. She paused a moment, trying to distinguish the direction of the sound. The origin of the sound seemed to be the middle of the library, the clearing where the fireplace and study tables were located. Gwen traveled down the rows, and as she grew nearer and nearer to the clearing, the sound grew louder and louder, and most distinguishable. She rounded the corner and was met with the site of Tom Riddle draped over a chair next to the fire, a giant book in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. Next to him, on the small end table, was an old fashioned looking record player. The record player softly filled the room with the heavenly sound of Joshua Urbanite belting out Christmas carols.

Gwen took in the whole scene with an amused eye. Tom was completely unaware of her presence; he was so wrapped up in reading _Hogwarts A History, Volume 1_. He looked like a little old woman holed up in her sitting room, and the only thing he lacked to complete the image was an old cat curled up on his lap. Gwen chuckled to herself and plopped down in the chair facing Tom, pulling her legs up underneath her. A cup of steaming hot apple cider with caramel sauce appeared next to her with a small poof of white smoke. Gwen let out a high-pitched squeak nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sudden appearance of the drink, while Tom just sat there, pretending like nothing had happened. As Gwen breathed in slowly, trying to calm herself, she glanced over at Tom. He was still reading, although the corner of his mouth twitched in a blink and you miss it second.

"Something the matter?" he drawled, eyes still riveted to the page in front of him.

"No, not at all. What would make you say that?" Gwen answered sarcastically.

"Perhaps the part where you jumped out of your chair like you sat on a tack," he answered with a slight hint of amusement as he casually flipped to the next page.

"Very funny, Mr. Smarty-pants," Gwen retorted.

"I thought it was," he smirked, looking up at her for the first time.

Gwen shook her head in mock disgust, and desperately tried to control the wide smile that was threatening to show itself. She sat back down in the chair, and took a sip of her apple cider. It was perfect.

"So…" Gwen said as she looked at him expectantly.

"I see you have found a new way to accessorize your fancy letter opener of you _famous_ ancestor," Tom stated in a snarky manner.

"Looking at my chest again, are we Tom?" Gwen teased as she readjusted her sword belt that she had wrapped from her right shoulder across her chest and fastened in the middle.

"No…no, I would never…that is not what I meant! You are twisting my words!" he spluttered, and an almost imperceptible blush crept to the edge of his cheeks.

"Oh, so you don't like my chest, do you? Are the girls too small for your taste?" Gwen asked in mock anger.

"I…I…What I was trying to say, before you took my complement and twisted it into a perverted joke, was that I had simply noticed that you were wearing your sword on your back instead of at your side. I was also going to ask you why you are not in your school robes, but now I am not so sure that might be a good idea," he said smoothly, composure regained.

"Ok then, thank you on that keen observation regarding my, how did you put it? Ah, yes, '_my fancy letter opener_.' Well, I've started wearing it on my back because it can be somewhat uncomfortable to sit down with the hilt poking me in the side. As to why I'm not wearing my school robes, last time I checked, it wasn't a crime to wear normal clothes, and besides, school is not in session. These are more comfortable, and the sweater's cashmere. It's so soft; I _love_ it. Here, feel," Gwen replied, pointing to her outfit of a v-neck white sweater, jeans, and black riding boots.

She stood up and walked over to Tom and held out her sleeve. He looked up at her skeptically, and reached out one long fingered hand to quickly pat the fabric. He accidentally brushed against her hand, and instantly jerked his hand back as though he had been burned. Gwen raised one eyebrow at him.

"You don't like to be touched, do you?" she asked quietly.

He refused to look at her, and instead changed the subject.

"Yes, you sweater is very soft, and very expensive, I am sure. Tell me, where does a _poor, orphaned American_ get a sweater like _that_," he sneered, a wave of anger passing through his eyes.

"It was a gift from my friend, Abigail Radcliff, the Hufflepuff. You know, the one from the hall when I _saved_ _you_ from Myrtle," she answered, her voice slightly strained as she tried to control her own mounting annoyance.

"Ah, _charity_. Figures _you_ would take it," he derided.

"No, it figures that _you_ would scoff at a gift freely given. Abigail isn't a Slytherin; she doesn't give things and expect a favor in return. Neither do I, for that matter," Gwen snapped.

"What do you mean by that?" he retorted, slamming his book shut and standing up to tower over her.

"What I mean is that I don't have ulterior motives in how I treat people, and neither do my friends. We give to each other without expecting anything in return. That's what _friends_ do, Tom," she answered, her fists unconsciously contracting.

"Oh, right, _friends_. Do you really think that any of your so-called friends care about you because they actually _like_ you? No, they only reason that they pretend to be your friend is because of your heritage. Were you not related to Gordic Gryffindor, no one would give you the time of day. People only pretend to like you because of how good it will make them look, not because of your _sparking personality_," he spat.

"Oh, right! _My_ friends want to use me because of my heritage, but your evil little minions associate themselves with _you_ for _honorable_ reasons. _Please_! If anyone is being used around here, its _you_ not _me_. Look me in the eye and tell me that Malfoy and crew pledge allegiance to you because of affection for you or and admiration of your intellect. _NO! _They only follow you around like blind puppies because of the power and grandeur that you offer. We both know that there is more to you than meets the eye and that you are destined for tremendous things. Your little underlings are power-hungry leaches that only want to use you for the benefits that you can provide, _heir of Slytherin!_" Gwen roared in anger, breathing hard as a red-hot blush flooded her cheeks.

He glared down at her, and then waved his hand almost imperceptibly and caused invisible ropes to wind themselves around Gwen, constricting her ribs tightly. She gasped and panted for air, but he only made the ropes tighten.

"How do you know about that?" he hissed, his face only inches from hers.

"I…I…can't breathe…" Gwen gasped as she surreptitiously focused her mind on a large book behind Tom's left ear.

He slightly released his grip on her, and at that moment Gwen levitated the book and sent it flying at his head. He must have sensed it coming, and quickly dodged out of the way. Gwen took that opportunity and broke free from her bonds. In a flash, she drew her sword, and leveled it at Tom. He turned around to face her and drew his wand when the librarian popped up out of thin air, her lips pressed into a thin line and her hands on her hips. She was NOT happy.

"Just what do you think you two are doing?" she asked in an uppity voice. "There will be no fighting in my library! Mr. Riddle, I'm disappointed in you that you would stoop to such a level! Really, I expect more from you! And you, Miss Morrison, you of all people should know that Gordic Gryffindor's sword is not a mere trinket! Put that away!" the diminutive old lady demanded.

Gwen's eyes darted between Tom and Ms. Stonewall, and slowly she returned her sword to its scabbard. Tom put away his wand soon after, but neither of the two broke off the intense stare between them.

"Now you two sit down and play nice like the mature students that you are _supposed_ to be. Mr. Riddle, please help the young lady into her seat, and bring her drink to her. Don't _look_ at me like that young man, or I _will_ take points from your house!" Ms. Stonewall commanded.

Tom glared at Gwen, and roughly grabbed her by the elbow and unceremoniously shoved her into the chair next to his. He then went over and snatched up her lukewarm mug of cider and plopped it down next to her, causing some of it to splash on her sleeve.

"Mr. Riddle! Watch what you are doing! That is a very nice sweater Miss Morrison has on, and I would hate to think that it would be ruined by your sudden carelessness!" the librarian trilled shrilly.

The look in Tom's eyes was nothing short of murderous, but he pulled out his wand and muttered, "_Scourgify_**" **to clean the stain. He then sat down in his chair and picked up a book next to him and handed it to Gwen.

"This is the book that I was going to show you before we got…distracted. It is about ancient swords and fencing. I thought you might enjoy it," he said tersely.

Ms. Stonewall watched the two of them read for a while, and once she was certain that they would be causing no more disturbances, she left. Soon after, Gwen and Tom forgot their argument, as they got lost in their respective books. The book fascinated her; it was filled with detailed pictures of fabulously ornate swords and their uses. Gwen was so absorbed in her book that she didn't realize that Tom had been reading over her shoulder for several minutes. Finally when Gwen realized that she was being watched, she turned her head to look at Tom.

"Yes?" she asked testily.

"Can I not read the book with you?" he snapped.

"Not without asking me first," she retorted.

"Fine," he huffed as he slumped back into his seat.

Tom went back to his moody silence and Gwen continued reading her book, ravenously digesting all of the information. She tried to not feel bad for being angry with him; after all he had insulted her and knocked the air out of her. But Gwen's anger was much like a firecracker; it burned steadily for a while, climbing higher and higher until it burst in a spectacular manner, and then faded quickly.

"Tom, have you ever been to Hogsmeade?" she said, turning to face him.

"No."

"Do you want to go an adventure?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

* * *

YAY! The rulers work again! I may go back and repost all the previous chapters (yikes! what a headache!) with the correct dividers. 


	22. Mission: Possible

Chapter Twenty Two

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Mission: Possible**

_**It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.**__**  
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**_

"What?" Tom asked warily.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me? You've never been and I need to get a few things. What do you say?" she answered as she rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

"How would we get there? I am _not_ going to walk, and the carriages are in storage, so we cannot use those," he reasoned.

"Ah, I have my ways," Gwen replied cryptically.

She stood up and stretched, exposing a sliver of creaming white skin. Tom glanced down at her stomach, and though he would never admit it, he found the sight of her slightly exposed rather…interesting. Gwen noticed that he was no longer looking at her face, and she smirked slightly, a little embarrassed. He was checking her out, and she kind of liked it. No one had ever done that before.

"Are you coming or not?" she asked brusquely.

When he didn't reply, she took his silence for a yes.

"Meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes, by the hunchback witch," she instructed.

She turned to leave, but Tom's voice stopped her.

"What benefit is in this little escapade for me?" he inquired as he stood up and levitated his book back to the proper shelf.

Gwen considered this question for a moment, and then answered, "I'll tell you how I know that you are related to Salazar Slytherin, if you come with me. Besides, you have fun when you're with me remember?"

This last statement seemed to hit a weak spot in Tom's seemingly impenetrable self-defenses. He paled even more than usual, his black eyes seeming to widen slightly in embarrassment.

"You heard that?" he whispered in horror.

"Yes. You're secret is safe with me, Tom. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you might actually _enjoy_ the presence of a Gryffindor, and _me_ at that. So do we have a deal?" she said with small smile on her face and an unusual redness to her cheeks.

"It seems that you have given me an offer that I cannot refuse," he stated, all traces of emotion gone from his being.

"Good! See you in ten," Gwen chirped before scuttling off to get her cold weather outer garments.

* * *

"How did you find this passage?" Tom said from where he was walking behind Gwen, his wand lit at the tip to shine extra light in the darkness. 

"Well…it's a long story. Basically, I was just snooping around and came across it. Why? Are you in the habit of seeking out hidden rooms or secret chambers?" she asked with feigned innocence.

She felt him stop short behind her and inhale sharply. She'd hit another nerve, just as she had intended. She slowly turned around to face him. She was a little frightened of being in a dark corridor several feet under the ground and miles from the school with Tom Riddle, but her Gryffindor courage sustained her, at least for now.

"What? Why'd you stop?" she inquired as though she had no idea why he might be a little suspicious of her questions.

He stood there, the light from his wand casting an eerie glow over his angular face, making him to appear slightly like a vampire. He said nothing, but Gwen could tell that he was trying to read her mind again. She quickly broke off his gaze and turned back around to walk farther forward into the darkness.

"You know, we've had this discussion before," she called behind her. "I really don't appreciate it when you don't trust me enough to let my explanations stand for themselves. Don't attempt to read my thoughts again, unless I give you permission."

Her light slowly faded from view, leaving Tom standing all alone in the damp passage. He considered turning back, and returning to the school, but his insatiable curiosity demanded that he move forward. In a few quick strides, he could see Gwen waiting for him; she was lounging lazily over a few stone steps, a knowing smirk on her face. He wanted to wipe that expression right off her face, but he figured now was not the time to pick yet another fight with her. Besides, she had a strange ability to seemingly always know how to get the best of him, a trait that irked him immensely.

"Get lost?" she drawled carelessly.

"No."

"Good. Now, I need you to be very quiet and help me keep a lookout for people in the cellar. We'll need to create a diversion so we can sneak out of the back of Honeydukes without being noticed. Think you can do that?" she instructed.

Tom nodded curtly, and they both ascended the stairs. Gwen pressed on the trap door, but as usual, there was some sort of weight holding it down.

"Can you see through that crack in the foundation there if anyone is in the cellar?" Gwen whispered as she prepared to levitate whatever it was holding the trap door down.

Tom bent down next to her to peer out of the small crack, and in doing so he bent close enough to Gwen to get a small whiff of her perfume. She smelled like freshly cut grass after a summer rain shower mixed with something else, something indescribably feminine. Tom tried to ignore the almost overpowering pheromones wafting from her, and turned his considerable concentration to the task at hand.

He looked out the crack and saw no one in the room, but his line of sight was so small than anyone could easily be in the storeroom and he not be able to see them. He whispered a dark spell from some book that he had long ago memorized that would allow him to see through the floor and through the boxed littered throughout the room. When he was confident that no one would see them, he told Gwen to go ahead and move the box.

The two of them moved swiftly through the cellar hid behind the door leading to the store. Tom opened the door slightly, and with a few swift movements of his wand, he created mass pandemonium by giving a crying seven year boy old a nasty case of the hiccups that caused the boy to literally bounce around the room, knocking candy everywhere. Tom and Gwen raced out from behind the counter and into the mass of people trying to keep the boy from destroying everything. Gwen was laughing so hard she couldn't see straight, and Tom had to forcibly pull her out of the store least she hurt herself.

"Tom! That's awful! How could you give that poor little boy those hiccups like that?" she gasped between high-pitched giggles.

Tom looked down at her, where she was spastically convulsing with laughter.

"You do not seem too upset by it," he smirked.

"It…it's just so wrong and so hilarious at the same time," she choked before another wave of giggles attacked.

"All right, enough tittering! Get control of yourself. People will think that you have escaped from St. Mungos," Tom said bemusedly before he waved his wand and the boy's insane hiccupping stopped but not before several large displays of chocolates tipped over.

"Maybe I did," Gwen cackled gleefully as she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes.

"That explains a lot, then," Tom responded playfully.

"Hey!" Gwen exclaimed as she lightly whacked his arm with the back of her hand.

He ignored her swatting, and stood stock-still; his dark eyes roamed slowly over the snow covered street, taking in all of the sights. He was in his element, a town with only wizards and witches for a population, a town where he would not have to hide his abilities like he would have had to do in London. Tom turned slowly around and then finally, he looked down at Gwen.

"What do you want to do first?" she asked when she noticed that Tom was paying her attention.

"I have no money to buy anything," he said crisply.

"That's why I brought this," Gwen stated as she pulled a modestly fat coin purse from the inside of her trench coat. "And before you give me some lecture about not wanting my money or my pity or charity or whatever, you can just think of this as payment for all those late-night tutoring sessions. Fair enough?"

Tom opened his mouth to make some sort of rejoinder, but instead he merely nodded curtly to acquiesceto her request. The two of them walked down the street, side by side, and Gwen would glance up ever so often to see the reaction on Tom's face. He was like a small child visiting the zoo for the first time, a sight that made Gwen's heart swell with pride. _She_ had brought him here, given him a chance to escape the temptations of the school and Chamber of Secrets in its bowels. _She_ had seen the darkness lift from his face, if only for a moment, when they had bantered back and forth. _She _was determined to make this a Christmas that Tom would never forget.

"I'm hungry. You want to get some lunch?" Gwen asked as she pushed her way through the crowd of people scurrying to get the last of their shopping finished.

Tom and Gwen walked into The Three Broomstick, where it was crowded, as usual. They sat down at the only available spot, a little table for two in between the fireplace and a window. Gwen sat closest to the fireplace, so that her back wasn't facing the entrance. She always had a quirk about needing to see anyone who walked into a room, least she be caught be surprise. The same barmaid from all the other times Gwen had come to The Three Broomsticks came to the table to take their orders, or Tom's more specifically. Gwen always ordered the same thing: apple cider, a turkey sandwich on a wheat croissant with lettuce, tomato and cheddar cheese.

"And what can I get you sir?" the barmaid asked pleasantly.

"Coffee and kidney pudding," he replied.

"Do you want anything in your coffee?"

"No, just black."

The barmaid went to turn in their orders, but not before she gave Gwen a significant look. Gwen shook her head almost imperceptibly to indicate that no, he was not her boyfriend. The barmaid frowned a bit but continued on her way.

"So, how about our agreement? How do you know so much about me?" Tom asked brusquely, his dark eyes glittering with malicious anticipation.

"The Sorting Hat told me who you are," Gwen lied.

"_Really_? Did it now," Tom said slowly, as though he was having a hard time believing the simplicity of Gwen's story.

"Yes, well, kinda. When I was sorted, it told me who I was, and then told me that another student attending Hogwarts was the heir of Slytherin, but it wouldn't tell me specifically who. It was easy enough to put the pieces together," Gwen explained.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, for starters, I knew the heir of Slytherin would have to be _in_ Slytherin, so that narrowed the field down a bit. Then, I met you, and I knew no one else could be the heir."

Tom sat there quietly for a while, mulling over this plausible but certainly not satisfactory explanation. Soon, their food came, and the two ate in silence. Gwen paid out, and then the two set off to explore the sights and sounds of Hogsmeade.

The first shop they stopped in, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, was crammed with all kinds of magic books, paper, and other nerdy stuff that Gwen knew Tom would love. He browsed the shelves, stopping to look at an elaborate peacock quill, and then some blood red ink. Gwen watched him with her arms crossed over her chest; she felt like a probation officer letting her charge out for good behavior. Tom was so…ignorant, for lack of a better word, when it came to simple things like Christmas gifts and shopping with a friend.

"_Friends_…are we friends?" Gwen mused to herself as she watched Tom mill around the dusty room. "I mean, we do fight like cats and dogs, but when we aren't at each other's throats we get along pretty well, I guess. At least he hasn't asked me too many questions about how I know who he is. That's got to count for something, right?"

He finally decided on a simple stack of white paper, identical to the kind that he used when he wrote notes to Gwen. She paid, again, and then they spent the rest of the day wandering around, stopping in various shops to peruse the merchandise. While in Gladrags Wizardwear, Gwen noticed that Tom kept eyeing a long, forest green set of robes. He obviously wanted them, but he was too proud and vain to ask Gwen to buy him such an expensive item. She smiled to herself as a sneaky plan started to form in her devious little mind.

Gwen surreptitiously pulled the very busy and very annoyed shop owner aside and whispered something in the old man's ear. He frowned a bit, but when Gwen handed him the rest of the money in her coin purse, he seemed to suddenly want to help her. He glanced over at Tom, the old tailor's professional eye sweeping critically over the young man. The shop owner made a few notations on a pad of paper that he pulled from inside his robes, and nodded to Gwen shortly. After a few moments, he returned with a few coins—her change.

She smiled, thanked the man, and just as she was about to call Tom over to announce that she was ready to leave, something caught her eye. It was a small, inexpensive paperweight looking …thing. It was made of ebony and shaped like an octagon, with a large, round moonstone in the center. Gwen checked the price tag, and much to her delight she had the exact amount to purchase the paperweight…thing. The old, shriveled shop owner came over once again and gladly took the rest of Gwen's money. He wrapped the octagonal object in plain, brown paper and tied it with a simple, dark green ribbon. Gwen smiled and thanked the shop owner.

"Tom! It's almost sundown. Are you ready to go?" she bellowed across the store, causing her to receive several annoyed looks from some of the customers.

"In a minute," he called from behind a large display of ridiculously ornate wizard hats.

"Ok, I'll be outside," she responded as she walked out the door.

Unbeknownst to Gwen, Tom had indeed brought some money, although it certainly wasn't his, at least not legally. He had filched a handful of coins from Abraxas Malfoy's trunk. Abraxas would never miss them, anyway, Tom had told himself, and he didn't feel the least bit sorry for what he had done. In his mind, Abraxas' owed him, and Tom had only taken a fraction of what he was due. With this tainted cash he purchased a gift for the Gryffindor heiress. He paid the shop owner and took the brown box, shrunk it down, and stuffed it inside his robes. Seconds later, he stepped onto the cobblestone streets, blowing a wispy cloud of steam from his nostrils.

The sun was setting, casting the magical little town in a glorious blaze of golden light, while the first few stars peaked out from the sky. Large, fat, lazy snowflakes drifted down from the multi-hued sky, and a few of them landed in Tom's long eyelashes. He brushed them away to find Gwen standing a few feet in front of him, with her back slightly to him. The quickly fading light cast a short of halo on her hair, bringing out the slight golden highlights in it and further emphasizing her creamy complexion and startlingly green eyes. To any other man, she would appear nothing more than an impishly pretty girl, but to Tom, at that moment, she was a goddess.

* * *

**_And so the fluff begins! Tell me if it's too much._**


	23. A Trip Down Memory Lane

Chapter Twenty Three

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**A Trip Down Memory Lane**

**_Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future._****_  
-_****_Corrie Ten Boom_**

When they reached the entrance into the courtyard the stars were twinkling in the inky black sky. Tom went up the stairs first, and took the few bags from their excursion from Gwen as she came up the stairs behind him. When she reached the ground level, he handed her the bag of English toffee from Honeydukes and her sack of extra parchment that also contained the octagonal box. She shrunk the bags down and put them in her trench coat.

"Thank you, for showing me around Hogsmeade," he said quietly as they strolled into the castle.

"See? Didn't I tell you that you'd have a good time?" she replied.

"Yes, yes you did, and you said that you would tell me how you know about my ancestry," he stated slowly. "And while you did answer my initial question, I find your answer to be…_unsatisfactory_. Do you remember our duel at the beginning of the year? You called me a 'half-blood bastard'. How did you know that? Did the Sorting Hat tell you that, like it did everything else?"

Gwen stopped short and shuddered. _Dear God_, had she been that _stupid_ to tell him that? What would she say now? He wouldn't believe her if she told him the truth about her being from the future. Gwen closed her eyes and swallowed painfully.

"Tom…I…I can't explain it, I… just know, ok? You'll have to take me at my word; I have no other explanation," she pleaded.

He stepped closer to her, cutting off all her changes of escape.

"Is that all you can say? '_You just know'?_ What kind of _fool_ do you take me for?" he hissed maliciously, as he literally forced his way into her mind.

Gwen immediately tried to block him, put he kept pressing, trying to break down her barriers. He prodded through memories, trying to find an answer to his questions. Gwen resisted valiantly and she was able to keep him from reaching her deep secret by pulling up the worst memory of her life: the time when she killed one of her teachers in Muggle high school, who was actually a wizard, for attempting to seduce her. That got Tom's attention, and he immediately retreated from her mind.

Gwen was breathing shallowly, trying desperately to keep in the tears that threatened to fall. She stepped backwards from Tom, and her back hit the cold stone wall of the castle. She hated acting like a damsel in distress, and of all things to show Tom, she had to show _that_ particular memory. She felt the hot, angry tears slide down her face, and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"Now do you see why I kept telling you to stay out of my head?" she mumbled.

Tom stared at her in horror. She tried to push past him to head up to her room, but he prevented her from moving anywhere.

"What was that?" he asked in a dangerously low voice.

"Please! Tom, just let me go! _Let me go!_" she pleaded as she pushed hard on his chest.

"What happened there? Who was that?" Tom asked as he tried to hold her back.

"It's _none_ of your business!" she screamed as she shoved him aside and started to run up the stairs to her dorm.

"Wait!" he called as he sprinted after her.

"You cannot just run off like that without explaining what happened!" he exclaimed as he quickly caught up to her.

"I can do whatever the hell _I_ want! I don't have to explain anything, least of all to _you_!" she spat viciously as she turned on him, her eye ablaze with a feral fury. "I don't have to explain anything to you, because you shouldn't have seen that…that _nightmare_! Why can't you just _trust_ me Tom? Why can't you just believe me and take me at my word? Why do you always have to pry into everything? _Why_?"

She was fully sobbing by now, her entire body convulsing with heart-wrenching tears that had stayed bottled up for too long. Gwen turned and tried to run up the stairs, but she was so blinded by her rage and tears that she tripped and fell, hard on the stone steps. Tom tried to help her up, but she whirled on him and kicked him down the steps, where he landed with a dull thud at the bottom of the stairs.

"_Don't_ you touch me!" she screamed. "I killed that man, and I'll kill _you_ too, if you ever try and touch me again!"

Gwen took off, running faster than she remembered running in quite some time. The stairs seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning more than normal. She flew through the portrait hole; she wasn't even sure if she gave the password or if the Fat Lady knew who she was and just opened for her. Gwen ran to her room, but accidentally tripped on the leg of a chair. She pulled out her wand, and without even thinking, she cursed the chair, blowing a nice, smoking hole in the upholstery.

Gwen stormed madly to her bed and threw herself down upon it, like a bratty toddler in the middle of an obnoxious temper tantrum. She felt something jabbing her stomach. Gwen rolled over and sat up, and pulled out the bag of English toffee from her robes, only to find the toffee crushed to a fine dust. She sighed loudly in frustration and enlarged the bag to a normal size and transfigured the toffee back to its usual state of bite-sized pieces. She then pulled out her sack of parchment, and as she wiped her eyes, she transfigured the sack back to its original size. Sniffing loudly, she levitated the parchment into her trunk. It was only then that she noticed that Fawkes was no long at his perch like she had left him.

That wasn't unusual; she always left her window unlocked and a little open so he could fly out anytime he wanted. Gwen shrugged it off; he'd be back later. She pulled out the wrapped box containing the octagonal paperweight. Gwen exhaled slowly and held the box in front of her, fingering the bow with disinterest.

She had planed on giving it to Tom as a Christmas/birthday present, since his birthday was either December 30th or 31st, but she couldn't remember which. She'd been stuck in the past with him for what seemed like her entire life and Gwen found it harder and harder to think of her life before Tom Riddle. Memories of Hogwarts in the future, with Harry Potter as Headmaster, seemed like a far-off and befuddled dream, a land that wasn't real and a place Gwen could never revisit. Her place was here, in the past, and she knew it, had always known it, deep in the murky waters of her subconscious.

Gwen sighed and put the box on her nightstand. She stood up, and walked wearily into the bathroom where she undressed. It was only a little after seven o'clock, but Gwen was exhausted and only wanted to sleep. She stepped into the shower and just stood there for a long time, letting the water pound on her face and soak through her hair. Finally, after forty-five minutes, Gwen stepped out and dried herself off. Her skin was red and puckered from standing under the hot water for so long, but she didn't care. She moved to grab her hair brush to brush her hair, but instead she got an idea. She went into her room and retrieved her wand. The next thing she knew, Gwen was hacking away at her hair, cutting it until it was a short little, pathetic wet bob that stuck to her oval face. She smiled feebly and then got ready for bed.

* * *

Tom paced furiously around the Slytherin common room. He was livid at the thought of some man trying…trying to do that to...to... _his_ Gwen. He was amazed that she would actually go through with the killing curse; he'd always thought of her to be the shining example of an idealistic Gryffindor that would find the use of an Unforgivable Curse wrong. 

"I must say that I am pleasantly surprised by this new information, and I am quite pleased, indeed. Who knew the little Gryffindor had it in her? Why, not even _you_ have been able to accomplish the Killing Curse. It looks like we might have to woe little Miss Morrison over to our side, after all," the cold high-pitched Voice hissed smoothly.

Tom stopped short. The Wolfsbane was supposed to work until the next full moon, suppressing the Voices in his head like it would have suppressed the werewolf urge in a werewolf. The evil Voice just chucked mirthlessly, causing the hair to stand up on the back of Tom's next.

"Oh, Tom, did you really think that you could get rid of me that easily? How naïve of you! You can never get rid of me. Never! I will always be here, lurking in your thoughts, directing you in the ways of power and the Dark Arts. You only exist because _I_ exist, and no fizzy little potion can rid you of the greatness that is me," It said malevolently.

"Tom! Snap out of it! Don't listen to him, he only wants you to serve him for his own evil ends; he doesn't care about you or helping you at all. Listen to me; you've got to go apologize to Gwen. I know, I know, you don't apologize. But what you did was inexcusable; she asked you countless times not to pry into her thoughts. She obviously had her reasons for not wanting to let you in, and know look what's happened. You've ruined whatever relationship was between the two of you, and you've hurt your only friend severely," the other, kinder Voice countered.

The evil Voice scoffed, saying, "Nonsense! You owe her _nothing_. She is but a valuable pawn to be acquired in our little game, a mere piece of the puzzle, nothing more. Use her for all she's worth, and when she's no longer of use to us, discard her and get another bimbo to take her place."

"She is _not_ a bimbo," Tom snapped. "I will not tolerate you talking about her like that; she is of as noble of blood as I am!"

"_Really_, is she now?" the snake-like voice whispered with obvious sarcasm. "Yes, yes, your _precious_ little Miss Morrison may be indeed related to the _great_ Gordic Gryffindor, and yes, she may be a pureblood, but that is the extent of her so-called _nobility_. She is nothing compared to you, _to us_. She knows _nothing_ of the power you posses, the power of the Dark Arts that you have only just begun to harness. Yes, you may be both related to the two most famous founders of Hogwarts, but other than that, you are _not_ alike. You are far greater than she could ever _dream_ of becoming."

The Voice seemed to pause a moment, either for breath or for Tom to consider what It had just said. A few moments later, the Voice continued.

"That is of course, if you still want to achieve your destiny, then and _only_ _then_ will you become the most feared wizard of all time, of all _eternity_. If not, well, then maybe the little bitch is right, you too are alike. Pity, wasting your endless on some silly dream of the lie that is love and happiness. She is right, you know. You _are_ a half-blood. Ironic, is it not? The only surviving person in the line of the most vocal pureblood supporter is everything that he should stand against: poor, unremarkable, and a _half-blood_."

"I am _not _unremarkable; I am the greatest student Hogwarts has seen in a hundred years! I will be Head Boy next year!" Tom retorted angrily.

"Congratulations, with a record like that you will be but a name in a long list tucked away in a dusty book in a library somewhere. No, you will be the greatest, most feared wizard of all time. You must embrace the magic that flows in your veins and discard anything, everything, and _everyone_ that ties you down to your Muggle side, but you can only do this with my help. Work with _me_, and you will become _Lord Voldemort_, the greatest Dark Lord of all time! Do you understand me?" the Voice purred maliciously.

"Y-yes…I do," Tom answered feebly.

"Good, I am so glad that we have come to a mutual agreement. Now here is what you need to do…"

* * *

Gwen woke up the next day, feeling strangely lightheaded. She reached up to rub her head, running her fingers through her silky hair. It was then she remembered that she had chopped off her hair last night in a spontaneous act of aggression against herself. She flopped back down on her bed and sighed. The past day, like most days spent with Tom Riddle, had been an emotionally wrenching roller coaster, though it was safe to say that yesterday the ride had literally flown off the tracks and crashed in a tremendous heap. 

Gwen reluctantly slid out of bed and stretched, and only then did she realize that today was Christmas Day. It certainly didn't feel any different, but Gwen strengthened her resolve. She would _not_ let the events of the previous day taint her on this glorious December day, a day of giving and good will. Gwen dressed quickly in her most festive green red dress, tied her gold silk scarf around her head and wrote a hasty note to Dumbledore wishing him a Merry Christmas and attached it to the bag of English toffee, but not before she pulled out a few pieces for herself.

As she descended the stairs into the common room, Gwen heard the familiar high-pitched wailing of Dinky.

"What on earth?" Gwen thought, but then the memory of her blasting the chair came rushing back.

Sure enough, there was a charred, gaping hole in the back of the red leather chair nearest to the staircase leading to the girl's dorms. Dinky was standing in front of the hole, wringing her hands and weeping loudly. Gwen felt a twinge of gilt; she'd have to transfigure the chair back so that Dinky wouldn't get into trouble for Gwen's irrational behavior. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard on the chair, imagining it in a normal state, sans burnt fabric and fraying stuffing. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of Dinky's excited shriek.

"Good morning, Dinky. How are you on this Christmas Day?" Gwen asked pleasantly as she walked into the common room.

"Oh! Miss Gwen! I was so worried! I came in here to put your gifts under the tree, and I found this hole in the back of the chair! I was so frightened that something had happened to you, and I tried to fix it, but the hole was too large for me to mend!" the House Elf spluttered excitedly.

"I don't see any hole, Dinky," Gwen said casually.

"I know! It was there a moment ago, but as I was trying to fix it one more time, it just sealed itself right up!" Dinky squealed.

"Well, maybe you're a better chair fixer-upper than you thought," Gwen replied with a half-suppressed grin.

"Oh, well, Dinky never thought of it like that!" she exclaimed.

"So what about these gifts for me under the Christmas tree?" Gwen asked brusquely, quickly changing the subject away from the 'miraculously' healed chair.

"Oh, I put them under the Christmas tree for you to open!" Dinky explained as she tugged on Gwen's mid-calve length dress and pulled her over to the majestic evergreen.

"See? Here's one from Professor Dumbledore, and one from Professor Robbins, and one that had no sender on it. Dinky found it in her cubbyhole in the kitchen, so she brought it here, for you!"

Gwen looked at this last gift with a piqued curiosity. She knew good and well who sent it, and her suspicions were confirmed when she read the only writing on the simple brown package. It said:

**_To: Miss Morrison. Happy Christmas._**

Despite herself, Gwen grinned and replaced the package under the tree. She would save it for tonight. She opened the gift from Dumbledore first to find a pair of gaudy red and green socks with jingle bells than would play a different Christmas carol every twenty-five steps. Gwen laughed out loud at this ridiculous gift; only Dumbledore could have gotten away with giving her something so silly and ludicrous and not have her light the socks on fire.

From Professor Robbins came a thin, elegant book on ancient swords; it was very similar to the one in the library, only the book from Professor Robbins was far less detailed. Gwen smiled and opened the book up and flipped through a few pages. Satisfied with these things, Gwen turned to Dinky and gave her the toffee, instructing her to give it to Dumbledore.

She then ascended the steps back to her room for some reason; she just felt like she must go. On her nightstand lay the black octagonal box, and it seemed to be calling to her. Slowly, Gwen advanced. She picked up the box, and carefully turned it over in her fingers. She wasn't sure she wanted to give it to Tom, yet she knew that he deserved an explanation for her actions yesterday, even if the way he acted was less than chivalrous. He was a lonely little boy, behind the entire facade, and he was desperate to know the truth about himself. If she was in the same position, Gwen wasn't sure if she wouldn't have acted differently. Yet, damn him, he acted in ways that were completely inappropriate, and no amount of loneliness or what have you could excuse that.

Gwen huffed slightly and tightened her grip on the box. In doing so she pressed the moonstone. Suddenly, the room was filled with a golden light that traveled across the ceiling and walls, illuminating them with a strange, almost angelic glow. A deep voice echoed across the room, and its words slowly appeared on the wall in white-hot writing.

"This box is for the keeper of memories; it will hold whatever you wish to pour into it. Your thoughts, feelings, and desires shall all be recorded here, and kept hidden from prodding eyes. Only the keeper of the memories, a person you choose to guard your thoughts stored in here, will be able to access the memories without releasing a sleeping gas. Choose the keeper well."

And with that the light and the voice disappeared, leaving Gwen staring at the wall in a darkened room. Carefully, she looked down at the octagonal box, and slowly pressed the moonstone again. The light poured from it again, only this time, no voice came from it. She took a deep breath.

"My name is Gwenevere Elizabeth Morrison, and I am heiress of Gordic Gryffindor. I wish for the keeper of my memories to be…Tom Marvolo Riddle, heir of Salazar Slytherin."


	24. Autobiography

Chapter Twenty Four

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Autobiography**

_**I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage.**_

_**-Friedrich Nietzsche**_

About two hours later Gwen finished pouring her memories, most of them at least, into the octagonal box. Her voice was completely dry and cracked, but her heart seemed to be a thousand times lighter, a feeling that she quite enjoyed. She conjured a glass of water, and after quenching her parched throat, Gwen rewrapped the box in the brown paper from which it had come and retied the green ribbon.

"Dinky! Dinky!" she called loudly.

A few moments later, the bubbly house elf appeared for the second time that day in the Gryffindor tower.

"Would you do me a favor and take this down to the Slytherin dungeon? I need you to give it to Tom Riddle, if you please," Gwen instructed.

"Tom Riddle?" Dinky asked hesitantly, giving Gwen a wary look.

"Yes."

"Well, if Miss Gwen really wants Dinky to…Dinky will do whatever Miss Gwen wants," the house elf said obediently.

"Thank you, I'd greatly appreciate it," Gwen murmured. "Oh, and Dinky? Merry Christmas."

Dinky smiled widely and nodded her head vigorously, and then disappeared in a poof of smoke. Gwen sighed heavily and walked to the window to look out. It was mid morning, and Fawkes had yet to return, and Gwen was worried. He never stayed away this long, and he was only a few months from his reincarnation. He needed to be there, with her, where he could be safe. As if to answer her question, a small, scarlet speck appeared on the horizon, soaring over the tall, snow covered evergreens. A few moments later, Fawkes fluttered into the room and landed on his stand, where he stood on one leg, silently preening himself. Gwen turned around to face her beloved bird, hands on her hips.

"And where have you been, mister?" she clucked like an old hen.

Fawkes just glanced up at her, and if a phoenix could smile mischievously, he did. He unfurled his wings and shook them slightly, and in doing so, he let a few feathers float silently to the ground. Gwen picked them up.

"These aren't yours, they've too much pink in them," Gwen said thoughtfully as she bent down to clean up the feathers.

She looked at her pet in a scrutinizing manner, with one eyebrow raised.

"You haven't been flying off to see that girl phoenix, Fiona, have you?" she asked suspiciously.

Fawkes just bobbed his head up and down and continued to preen himself.

"Now, Fawkes, be careful, will you? I don't want to have to pay baby phoenix child support," Gwen admonished him, not realizing how silly she sounded, talking to him like he was a gigolo or something ludicrous like that.

Fawkes just chirped pleasantly and nuzzled her hand affectionately. Gwen gently petted him and giggled slightly at the idea of him being a lover-bird. Her stomach rumbled, and she glanced at her watch. It was near lunchtime, and she hadn't eaten anything since lunch yesterday. After a few more strokes of Fawkes feathery head, Gwen descended to the Great Hall. There she ate the remains of today's lunch, which was a rather sparse affair since that evening would be the Christmas Feast, a lavish event that several students and their families, plus a few dignitaries and the like would attend.

* * *

Tom sat in his chambers, holding the octagonal box loosely in his right hand, and Gwen's note to him in his left. She had written only two sentences, yet the impact of those sentences was enormous.

_**Dear Tom,**_

_**You are the guardian of my memories. Keep them safe.**_

_**Merry Christmas,**_

_**Gwen.**_

The guardian of her memories? What did that mean? Tom had heard of a person recording their thoughts or memories in inanimate objects, after all that was what he was doing with his diary. However, he seriously doubted that Gwen had just sent him a horcrux. She couldn't know what those were, could she? He'd just discovered how to make one, and that had taken some serious finagling, months of research and lots of ass kissing to get his desired results. On the other hand, she _had_ killed someone, and that was the pivotal step in creating a horcrux…

He pressed the moonstone. The brilliant golden light filled the room and bounced off the walls, making the dark Slytherin dungeon brighter than it had been in many, many years. Slowly, some of the light nearest the moonstone twisted into a shape of a person, and soon, Gwen's familiar figure was there, sitting down on what appeared to be her bed, but there was something about her, something different that Tom couldn't quite place. He squinted at the image, and that was when it hit him. She had cut her hair. Instead of the all one length sack that usually hung around her head, there was a short, choppy bob that flattered her full cheeks and helped define her surprisingly shapely jaw line.

Her flickering image looked up at him, and those frighteningly brilliant grass-green eyes locked on to his. How he hated and adored those eyes! They pierced through him and all of his growing darkness; they cleaned away the cobwebs in his soul, they pierced through the walls and defenses that he had created. Those eyes challenged him when no others would, flashed in anger when they should have widened in terror, but most of all, on the rare occasion when they softened, he felt completely defenseless and ignorant. He hated ignorance and he hated her and her damnable eyes…hated them…hated them…he kept repeating, hoping that he would believe himself and that his Voices would not return to convince him one way or the other.

She started speaking. Her voice, a wispy yet deep combination of southern American charm and the lilting dance of a Welsh speaker, floated out to reach Tom's ears.

"You know, I don't really know why I'm doing this, but here goes nothing. I found this memory keeper thingy, well at the time I bought it I didn't know what it was, I thought it was just a funky looking paperweight…but I digress. So, as my note indicated, these are my memories, not all of them, of course, I can't have you knowing everything about me, can I? I've got to keep up some of my mysterious allure somehow—"she laughed hollowly at this point.

"Anyway, I've put a few in here that I thought you might find interesting. Yes, I know this is a complete shock, after my irrational behavior yesterday, but you made me feel…well… never mind…"

She inhaled sharply.

"So, let's start from the top shall we? In the beginning, on October 9, 1927, I was born to Edward and Camilla Morrison; I am their one and only child. I don't remember as many things about them as I should, but what I do remember is this: both my parents were pure bloods, but my mom shunned her abilities and refused to use any witchcraft. Don't ask why, because I don't know."

Gwen's image paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, and then continued.

"My father, on the other hand, was not ashamed of his heritage, and therefore he taught me a few simple spells, like the summoning and expelling charms, sans wand of course, because my mom would have kicked us both out of the house if she found out I was using magic. Anyway, even as far back as when I was about three or four, I remember excelling at Transfiguration. Now that I know that I'm related to Gordic Gryffindor and his proclivity for Transfiguration, it makes sense how I was able to do the things I did at such a young age."

She stopped again, this time nervously drumming her fingers on her thigh. Tom had noticed that she always did that when she was nervous or agitated.

"So all was well for a while in the Morrison household, but one day, when I was about six years old, my next door neighbor came over and talked with my parents for a really long time. I was too young and oblivious at the time to know what was going on…but now I know. You see, even though my parents weren't connected to anything relating to magic and the defense thereof, the Ministry, both the American one and the English one, knew who they were, or who my dad was. He had a few contacts in both Ministries, and once in a while he'd visit those contacts, under the ruse of hunting. While with these contacts he learned of a growing Dark Magic threat in Germany…what we all now know as Grinwald."

Another pause came, and this one was lengthier than the previous ones. Tom was so engrossed in her story that it annoyed him when she stopped.

"I think dad knew about his relation to Gryffindor and he felt like it was his duty to help stop Grinwald, so he made the excuse that he and mom were going on vacation here in England—" she coughed slightly to cover her sob.

Tom felt himself reach up and brush his hand through her image, as though to wipe away her impending tears. She made him far more human than he should have been, and no matter how much the two sides of him berated him for his treatment of Gwen, he felt something for her that he never felt for anyone else…something he couldn't explain.

"They left the day after they talked with my neighbor…and…and… they… n-never c-c-came back…" she stuttered.

Clearly, this part of the story was the hardest for her, but she swallowed hard, and continued on, full steam ahead.

"Supposedly they died in an earthquake, but even then I doubted that. England isn't known for random earthquakes, but I guess it doesn't really matter anyway. They're gone. I stayed with a family that was close to my parents, but they already had two children and money was tight. They were good people, at first, but they were Muggles, and they had suspicions about me. Once the will came out and it was discovered that I would come into a modest fortune; the family became very concerned with their own well being, and within four years, the fortune, in American money, was gone."

"However, my parents, or my dad, rather, had hidden away even more money. Only this time it was Wizarding money. I didn't know that until about three years ago, when I started attending the private school in Phoenix, Arizona. But let's get back to my living conditions. After my money was gone, the family, the Lanes, kicked me out, saying that I was a handful and that I scared their children. I didn't do anything to their kids, though, I swear. I just used magic one time in front of them, to mend a vase that they'd broken and they freaked."

"After that I was shipped off to several different foster families, one worse than the next, but thankfully I was never physically abused; mostly I was just yelled at for not taking the trash out as fast as I was commanded. I attended Muggle high school for two years in five different cities, and not until I was fourteen and living with in final foster home with a lovely couple, the Rouths, was I able to learn a little witchcraft. They were Muggles, but their son, James, was a wizard, and a very good one at that. They were able to get me into the American Institute for Witchcraft and I was all set to go when…that incident that you, ahem forced out of my mind happened."

"I'd rather not go into specifics, but suffice to say that…individual… caught on to the fact that I was a witch, and well…he'd always given me strange looks and special attention…Anyway, there was a huge scandal involving several interviews with Aurors, but eventually I was cleared and my record expunged. The Rouths stood by me the whole way, and I still consider them to be my family, even they too were later killed by and attack of Grinwald's followers when they were vacationing in Spain."

She sighed deeply at this and deep emotional pain was clearly etched on her rather blunt features.

"So I went to school in America for two years, was granted permission to transfer to Hogwarts and gain control of all my parent's assets, and here I am."

She threw up her arms in a "ta- da" like motion.

If you're still listening by now, I want to thank you for hearing me out on…this. The things I've just told you are things that no one else in the world knows —not even Dumbledore or my roommates. You may be asking yourself why I feel compelled to entrust you with this information since our relationship is rather…volatile. Well, Tom, I've asked myself that question a thousand times over, and I've come down to this conclusion. We're a lot alike, you and I, and maybe that's why we clash. We show each other our faults and we're afraid to admit that we're wrong. But despite all that, I have to say that you are probably the only person I know who could truly understand the things that I went through…most of them at least."

"Dumbledore told me about the orphanage, and what it was like. Please, don't be angry with him, I think the crazy old coot might have been right in telling me, because now I know that at least someone at Hogwarts would understand me, even if that person is…you."

At this last part, her image smiled lightly and then slowly, the light faded, leaving Tom engulfed in darkness once more. He stared at the place where her image had been; contemplating the words that she had spoken. Gwen was a strange girl; she confused him immensely, and he was never confused. Everything was usually so simple: study this book, memorize this spell, make people fear and respect you, try to take over the world through fear and violence, etc. But with Gwen, things weren't simple. She was a complicated, jumble of idiosyncrasies and vacillating emotions. One day she was throwing him down the stairs and threatening to kill him, the next, she was telling him her life story. He didn't get it.

At that moment, he could feel his Voice starting to rise in his head; he knew that it wouldn't be long before one or the other or both started to nag him about this newly and freely acquired information. Fortunately, he was feeling particularly strong willed today, and he suppressed those whispers, for a moment, at least.

A scratching noise on the window broke into his thoughts. Tom stood up, and in one long stride he was at the window. He opened it and in flew an owl that he didn't recognize. It was a large, tawny and auburn owl with a massive chest and impressive wingspan. It was a delivery owl. Tom detached the large but supple package from the owl's talons and paid it. The owl hooted appreciatively and flew off to deliver another parcel.

Tom held up the package and read the tag hanging from it. The only thing on the tag was the logo for Gladrags Wizardwear. Tom tore open the plain brown packing paper and unfurled the set of velvet green robes that he had been eyeing yesterday. He held the robes up to the light in wonder, and then a small, genuine smile crossed his his taught cheeks. This reeked of Gwen's doing and all of the sudden, his black little heart grew, if ever so slightly.


	25. Right And Wrong

Chapter Twenty Five

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Right & Wrong**

**_It is the eternal struggle between these two principles - right and wrong. They are the two principles that have stood face to face from the beginning of time and will ever continue to struggle. It is the same spirit that says, "You work and toil and earn bread, and I'll eat it."_****_  
-_****_Abraham Lincoln_**

The icy winds of January swirled around Hogwarts and tightened around the castle like a vise. School was in session again, and all things fell back into their routine. Gwen's friends had returned from all across the earth, each bursting with stories to tell of embarrassing moments, boys, and annoying family members. Through it all, Gwen remained especially tight lipped about her adventures throughout Christmas break.

As Gwen sat in Transfiguration, not really listening to Dumbledore's lecture, her mind drifted back over that time period, particularly Christmas night. She hadn't expected to see Tom until school started again, but there he had been, waiting patiently for her outside the portrait hole. He had insisted on escorting her down to the feast, and she had immediately noticed that he was wearing the robes that she had sent him. He looked absolutely jaw-dropping in those forest green robes that perfectly matched her dress, and she was very pleased that she had splurged and made such a purchase.

* * *

As they had walked down to the Great Hall, Tom had made no mention of the memory box Gwen had given him, so she didn't bring up the subject either. She knew how dangerous it was to give him such personal information, but without opening up to him and letting him know that he wasn't the only one who had suffered loneliness and alienation, how would he trust her? His coming to see her before the feast only confirmed that maybe he did trust her, or at least he thought that he could get more information out of her and use it to his advantage. Gwen Morrison, however, wasn't the type of person that could be used so easily, and they both knew it.

Then, as they were about to enter the Great Hall, Tom did something that Gwen never though he'd do in a million trillion bazillion years: he apologized. For the rest of her days, Gwen knew that she would never forget those fateful words and how the normally cold and authoritative Tom Riddle seemed flustered and embarrassed.

"Miss Morrison? Before you go into the Hall, there is something that I would like to say to you. I am…regretful about that incident a few days ago regarding your…unfortunate…incident…I hope that this will not…tarnish our…friendship…"

Gwen had been so flabbergasted that she had stopped short and stared at him with her mouth hanging open like a fish. Now, she wished that she had been more comforting and understanding in her reaction.

"Er...sure thing Tom," was all she had said in reply, and she still kicked herself mentally for such a lackluster response.

She could still see the look of hurt that passed over his sculpted features because she had made no comment about his use of the word "friendship". Gwen felt awful that she had not acknowledged such a big leap of faith from him. He had looked at her earnestly to see if she would say anything more, but when she didn't, he had immediately hardened again.

He had walked into the Hall without another word, leaving Gwen alone. However, her personal space was soon invaded by none other than Professor Slughorn. He dragged Gwen into the Great Hall to show her off to all the pure blood families that were there, including the Malfoys and the Christensens. They had of course heard about who she was, and were appraising her like a piece of furniture for their summer homes. Mr. Ribaldi, the man who worked for the Ministry of Magic and owned Fiona, the female phoenix, asked her incessant questions about her home life and where she had come from. Gwen just stared at them all, bleary eyed and helpless, like a fly caught in a spider's web.

She had answered them as politely and demurely as possible and without giving away too much information. Most of the questions were quite innocuous, if a little nosy, but some were downright invasive, like when Mrs. Malfoy asked what her class rank was and if she got any special privileges. Gwen had diplomatically replied that she was merely a student at Hogwarts, and that she was treated just as fairly as the rest of the students. Mrs. Malfoy did not seem impressed by this answer, and she certainly did not seem impressed with Gwen as a whole, even going so far as to remark to Gwen's face that she knew of a wonderful spell that would help Gwen get rid of her baby fat. Gwen, fortunately, did not have a chance to reply to this incredibly rude offer because the feast had begun.

Gwen had tried to sit away from all of the nosy people and their snobbish questions, but it seemed like everywhere she went there was yet another person pressing her for personal information. Some even tried to take the Gryffindor sword away from her so that they could look at it, but apparently the sword was endowed with a repelling charm that gave the attempted thief a bad case of hives. Little kids kept coming up to Gwen as she was trying to eat, pulling on her sleeve and asking to have her autograph. One particularly bratty child even went so far as to kick Gwen in the shins to see how "brave" she really was.

But, just when she thought that the questions couldn't get any worse or the attention any more severe, Tom Riddle came to the rescue. He had gallantly slid into the crowd next to her, causing all eyes to drift to him. Most of the women in the crowd, openly ogled him suggestively, and Gwen felt the hair on the back of her neck rise up and her muscles tighten. Tom, however, did not seem to notice, and only flashed a brilliant smile before whisking Gwen away, saying that she was needed elsewhere, and as a prefect, it was his duty to see that she was where she needed to be.

Once they were outside of the Great Hall Gwen had breathed a huge sigh of relief as she slumped against a column. Tom stood there serenely, with his hands interlaced behind his back, and a small smile played on his lips. Gwen glanced up at him with a look on her face that was a mixture between shock, exhaustion and gratitude.

"You're my hero," she had said breathlessly.

Tom had raised one eyebrow quizzically, before he replied, "Oh, come now; do not tell me that those people scared you _that_ badly."

"Those…_people_, if you can even call them that, are like a pack of ravenous werewolves. They thrive off the discomfort of others— they seem more like _your_ crowd. Why don't you waltz back in there and do that brown-nosing trick that you're so good at?" she had quipped.

"No need; I already know everyone in there," he had countered.

"I should have known," Gwen had muttered with a smirk.

* * *

"Miss Morrison is my lecture boring?" asked Professor Dumbledore in a soft, but firm voice, effectively snapping Gwen from her reflections.

"Er...no, not at all Professor," she mumbled meekly.

"Ah! Good! Then you won't mind reading the next paragraph, will you?" he asked jovially.

Gwen grimaced slightly; she had no idea what page they were on, so she hemmed and hawed around, trying to find it and unsuccessfully hid her embarrassment. When she had still yet to find the page after about a minute, Tom flicked his wand lazily at her book, and it turned to the right page.

"I could've found that myself, you know," Gwen snapped at him.

"_Obviously_," he shot back sarcastically.

"_Asshole_," Gwen mumbled under her breath, causing several people, Abraxas Malfoy included, to snicker slightly.

Professor Dumbledore either didn't hear her comment or chose to ignore it. Instead he simply asked her to read the second paragraph now that she found her page. Gwen cleared her throat, and began to read.

"Transfiguration has many usefully qualities that are quite beneficial to the Wizarding World, such as improving one's appearance. However, not all changes are beneficial, especially when particularly Dark Magic is involved. It is not unheard of for wizards who have totally immersed themselves in the Dark Arts to undergo a radical and very ghastly change in their appearance. Their features will usually take on a decidedly waxy look, and some even go so far as to have their appearance materialize much like their souls; twisted, evil-looking, and inhuman. Just one more reason to steer clear of the Dark Arts and the evil contained within them."

"Very good, Miss Morrison—yes Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore said.

'Sir, while I do not doubt the _quality_ of the curriculum, I have one minor complaint about the passage that our _dear_ Miss Morrison just read. Is it really necessary for the authors of the book to put their own personal beliefs in a book of learning?" Tom interrupted in his most superciliously polite way.

"I'm not sure I follow your question Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore replied slowly.

"What I mean, sir, is why do the authors of this text book feel the need to describe the Dark Arts as 'evil' or 'inhuman'? The Dark Arts were developed by humans _for_ humans. Therefore, the Dark Arts must have a human quality to them," Tom answered patronizingly. "If you think about it, there really is no good and evil, no right and wrong. There is only power, and magic, and those who seek it and those who do not. The weak are afraid of the strong, so they call the strong 'evil' to make themselves feel better. But those in power fear an uprising from the weak, so they call the weak 'evil'. It is all a matter of perspective."

Dumbledore was about to say something in response, but Gwen beat him to the punch.

"How can you say that? Right and wrong, good and evil, they all are fundamental elements of the universe. Without a definitive right and a definitive wrong, there is no foundation, no meaning to life. Everything is relative and has no basis. Without absolutes, there can be no functioning society, no rules, and no laws. There would be complete anarchy with everyone acting as to how they _feel_ is right as opposed to what _is_ right," she countered passionately.

"And who, pray tell, is to determine this so-called 'fundamental right and wrong'? You?" Tom sneered as he turned around sideways in his desk to face Gwen, one eyebrow raised.

"Of course not me. Like I said, right and wrong are _fundamental_. They exist much in the same way the sky is blue; it just is. You can explain it anyway you want, what with magic or Muggle science, but that doesn't change the fact that the sky is blue. And conversely, who are you to say that right and wrong don't exist?" she rejoined.

"Then how do we determine the fundamental 'right' and the 'wrong' from one another? If they exist in such a clear way, then why do people do 'evil' things? By the way you make it sound 'good' and 'evil' are so clear that everyone should want to do 'good' all the time," he questioned as he leaned forward, dark eyes dancing intently.

"Free-will," Gwen answered simply.

"That is an unacceptably uncomplicated answer. Unfortunately, Miss Morrison, the world is a much more complex place than you realize. Life is not so black and white, so cut and dry. Life is made up of shades of grey, one a little darker or lighter than the other, but still grey," he stated condescendingly.

"But what is grey made of? Black and white. You can't know what black is without known what white is. You can't have grey without out a definitive black and a definitive white. What is knowledge without ignorance? What is pain without suffering? What is love without hate?" she declared fervently.

"A very idealistic, and dare I say it, a very _Gryffindor_, way to look at things, but not a very practical outlook. You surprise me, Miss Morrison. I always had you pegged as a realist. I suppose your Gryffindor side is finally showing through, besides your headstrong so-called bravery, which I prefer to think of stupidity," he drawled as he flashed a rather malevolent grin.

"And _your_ reaction is pathetic example of the stereotypical Slytherin. I would have thought you'd be more original and creative than to fall into the same old worn out way of thinking. Guess I was wrong," Gwen mocked as she too gave a rather sinister smile.

The two of them sat there, facing each other, with their eyes narrowed and death glares on both their faces, each daring the other to back down. The rest of the class watched in fascination; most because they _still_ could not believe that this girl was the only student in all of Hogwarts who would not back down from Tom Riddle.

"Well, now, I believe that was the bell," Dumbledore said pleasantly, effectively breaking the spell that held the class' attention.

The students stood up and gathered their books, and soon they were chatting and running down the halls, like nothing had happened. Gwen gathered her books, and soon joined her laughing friends in the hallway. Lola turned around when she heard Gwen's call of "Wait for me!"

"Gwen, darling it's so good of you to join us. I was afraid that you'd still be back in the Transfiguration classroom, trying to turn Tom into stone with that Medusa-like stare of yours," Lola giggled.

"My Medusa-like stare huh? I like that," Gwen said amusedly.

"You really don't care for him, do you?" Emma asked quizzically.

"Who, Tom? It's not that I don't care for him, per se; it's just that I just hate the fact that he feels the need to act self-important and like he knows everything. It just annoys me that he' so…arrogant. Was it really necessary for him to question Professor Dumbledore like that?" Gwen replied slowly, with her brow furrowed.

"Well, not to be rude Gwen, but was it really your place to oppose him like that? I mean, yes, he probably should not have questioned the school's curriculum so boldly, and especially to the assistant headmaster, but conversely, it probably was not your place to correct him. Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure, would have dealt with Tom accordingly," Emma pointed out.

"I understand what you're saying Emma, and I agree to a certain extent. Maybe I was out of line and stepped in where I shouldn't have. However, I don't regret what I did or what I said. Someone had to say it," Gwen replied thoughtfully.

Privately, though, Gwen was a little irked that Emma would make such a statement. Sure, Gwen knew that Dumbledore was more than capable of holding his own against Tom, but Tom had zero respect for the Transfiguration master. She knew that Tom wouldn't listen to Dumbledore on even a trivial matter, much less on something as important as the dangers of the Dark Arts. Tom, at least had a glimmer of respect for her, well, at least she secretly hoped he did. He might not openly agree with her, but she had a slight suspicion that he might at least consider her point.

"Besides, if I don't oppose Tom, who will?" Gwen said out loud by mistake.

"Why does he need opposing?" Emma asked in surprise.

"I…he just does," Gwen shrugged skittishly.

"And you believe that you're the only one to do it," Emma finished.

"Someone sure has a hero complex," Lola scoffed.

Gwen just smiled coyly.

"At least I don't wear spandex and a cape."


	26. Into The Belly Of The Serpent

Chapter Twenty Six

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Into the Belly of the Serpent**

**_Down once more _****_to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind!  
Down that path into darkness deep as hell!_**

_**- The Phantom from "The Phantom of the Opera"**_

Moaning Myrtle sat alone in her customary bathroom stall, crying her eyes out again. It was dinnertime, and she should have been eating with the other students, but she just couldn't take their cruelty anymore. She hated that she was always the target for taunting attacks by the older girls. What had she done but simply exist to deserve their wrath? She sighed dejectedly. It seemed like she was always alone, crying in this third-floor bathroom. It was the one place where she could be safe and not have to endure the vindictiveness of her peers. Oh, how she wanted to be accepted, to be popular. If she could only be like Gwen Morrison, her life would be perfect.

Myrtle idolized Gwen. She was everything that Myrtle wanted to be: outgoing, brave, strong, smart, and beautiful. Myrtle would often envision herself as Gwen, walking along the halls with that unwavering confidence and charisma. Myrtle wanted people to whisper in awe about her like they did Gwen, but most of all, Myrtle wanted Tom Riddle to be madly in love with her like he was with Gwen. Myrtle saw the way he looked at Gwen, the way he watched her every move like a brooding gargoyle. Myrtle saw the way his dark eyes lit up ever-so-slightly when Gwen was nearby. Myrtle saw their interactions, and the way they bantered. They were the perfect couple in Myrtle's eyes; they were opposites yet very similar, and Myrtle believed that deep down both loved each other genuinely. Myrtle was a diehard romantic, and she loved the idea of the feisty girl taming the seemingly unfeeling boy.

Suddenly, Myrtle heard the sound of footsteps. She stiffened and tried to slow her ragged breathing, and pulled up her legs so that her feet wouldn't show under the stall. She didn't want to give away her hiding spot.

The footsteps stopped, and Myrtle waited with baited breath. Whoever it was started speaking, although it wasn't any language Myrtle understood. It sounded like…hissing. Myrtle shivered. She didn't like whatever or whoever it was that was speaking. However, the hissing sounds stopped rather abruptly, and Myrtle took the silence as an opportunity to quietly peek out of her stall. The sight that met her eyes made her eyes bulge out of her sockets and any breath that she had disappeared. Tom Riddle was standing in front of one of the sinks, or more accurately, where one of the sinks had been. A gaping hole in the floor was in the place of the one sink that didn't work. Tom glanced around furtively, and much to Myrtle's relief, he didn't see her. He lit the tip of his wand, and with one fluid movement, he disappeared into the abyss. Myrtle didn't waste another second in the bathroom, and she ran screaming all the way to her common room.

Along the way she just so happened to run smack dab into the worst person possible to run into: Olive Hornby, a Slytherin. Olive was to Myrtle what Isolde Christensen was to Gwen—her mortal enemy.

"Watch it four eyes! Where are you running off to so fast that you have to invade my presence with your trash?" Olive snapped hatefully.

"S-sorry!" Myrtle stuttered between gasps for air.

Olive smiled cruelly, and with one blood-red manicured fingertip, she motioned for her minions to join her. Myrtle gulped.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to teach you to be more careful then, won't I?" she purred maliciously. "Girls, why don't we teach little-miss-clumsy here how to be more graceful, hmm?"

They laughed brutally and slowly circled Myrtle like a pack of ravenous wolves. But before anyone could touch Myrtle, the hiss of flying metal filled the air. Olive whirled around, and a mere inch from her pretty head was Gryffindor's blade embedded in the mortar of the stone walls. Gwen stood, proud and erect at the top of the stairs, with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Is there a problem here?" she asked imperiously.

Olive and her cronies gaped at her, but Olive soon recovered, and smiled nastily.

"Oh, look girls; little-miss-Gryffindor has come to save the day once again! How convenient!" she laughed spitefully.

The others soon joined in their laughter, but were instantly silenced when Gwen descended the stairs to their level. Gwen might have been the shortest among them, but her presence dwarfed them all. They could feel the power emitting from her and they were frightened.

"Yes, Olive, it is very convenient indeed that I would be here just as you were about to give Myrtle a most-welcome thrashing. I was hoping that I could join in, if you don't mind. I so enjoy picking on people who are weaker than I am; it give me such a boost to my obviously lacking self-esteem. Don't you agree?" Gwen replied nonchalantly.

Myrtle stared at Gwen incredulously. How could her idol be doing this to her? Olive, on the other hand, looked confused for a moment, not totally comprehending the reverse psychology that Gwen was employing.

"Are you trying to trick me?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Now why would I want to do that? A girl of your obvious intellect and poise would be hard to manipulate. I would never think of doing such a thing!" Gwen feigned.

Olive opened and closed her mouth to say something, but she couldn't form the right words. She gave up and only glowered at Gwen, who smiled back goofily.

"Come on girls, this isn't fun anymore," she muttered.

One by one the other girls left, and soon Gwen and Myrtle were left standing in the hallway. Gwen retrieved her sword, and before she was able to return it to its scabbard, she was crushed into a fierce hug by Myrtle. Gwen patted her back awkwardly.

"Thank you s-so much!" Myrtle wailed.

She was crying. _Again_.

"No problem Myrtle. Now, if you don't mind, why don't you tell me the real reason you were running down the hall screaming like a mad-woman?" Gwen asked with a twinkling smile.

Myrtle stiffened, and her sobbing increased to almost incoherent shrieks.

"T-Tom R-Riddle c-came into the g-girl's b-bathroom a-and h-he s-started m-making t-this awful h-hissing noise. A-and t-then t-this hole…in t-the ground—w-wait w-where are y-you going?" she called after Gwen, who was sprinting down the hall, towards the bathroom with her wand and sword drawn.

"Go get Professor Dumbledore immediately! Tell him to get everyone to their common rooms! NOW!" Gwen bellowed.

Myrtle nodded profusely, and ran up the stairs to the Transfiguration room. Gwen meanwhile, made her way to the third floor bathroom. Her heart was pounding wildly, and here adrenaline was running at an all-time high.

The Chamber had been opened.

* * *

Dumbledore was sitting serenely at his desk, grading papers, when Myrtle burst through his door. 

"P-Professor D-Dumbledore! Help!" she screamed.

Dumbledore got up from his chair, instantly alert.

"What's wrong Myrtle? Has Olive been bulling you again?" he asked concernedly.

"N-no, I-I m-mean yes, b-but t-that's not w-why I'm h-here. Gwen Morrison t-told m-me t-to c-come tell y-you to g-get everybody into their c-common rooms. S-she s-sounded like it w-was r-really important," Myrtle explained as she tried to calm herself.

"What do you mean? Start from the beginning," Dumbledore commanded.

"W-well I was s-sitting in the t-third floor g-girls bathroom…"

* * *

Gwen stormed down the hallway, completely enraged. How _dare_ Tom do this to her? She _trusted_ him _damn_ him! What had happened to all those times they had talked? He'd acted like he'd truly begun to change, and yet here he was opening the Chamber! What had happened? Something must have triggered this sudden acceleration in his plans, but what? 

She ran up to the entrance to the bathroom, but skidded to a stop. She didn't want to walk in on the basilisk and end up dead. Instead she listened intently, and when she didn't hear any slithering, she boldly walked into the bathroom, even though she was starting to wheeze and shake from lack of air and anticipation. Of all the times for her asthma to act up, now was certainly _not_ the time.

Sure enough, there was a gaping hole in the middle of the floor. Gwen gulped. It looked like the entrance into Hell. She hoped that she would get there soon enough to stop Tom from releasing the basilisk… she gulped again, but her throat remains dry. Just before she leapt into the darkness, she remembers to say the magic words that would protect her from the basilisk's deadly gaze.

_**In brightest day and darkest night**_

_**Let those who worship evil's light**_

**_Beware of my power, Gryffindor's might_**

And with that Gwen jumped into the inky blackness.

* * *

Dumbledore paled considerably when Myrtle told him about Tom opening the Chamber, although she of course didn't know it was the Chamber of Secrets or the horror that was contained within it. His sharp mind flashed instantly to Gwen. He knew that she had trained for practically her entire life as a witch for this moment, yet he feared for his favorite pupil's well-being. He knew that Gwen would have to face Tom alone, and that she was capable of handling the situation on her own. He wished her luck, and then set off after Myrtle to usher any loitering students into their common rooms. Then he would go to find Hagrid's spider and set free in the woods. More than one life would be spared this night.

* * *

Down, down, down, Gwen slid, twisting, turning, meandering, until the slide stopped abruptly. Gwen tumbled over herself, and even nicked her leg slightly with the Gryffindor sword, but she wiped away the small amount of blood and continued. Her senses were heightened to a level that she had never experienced. She could see through the shadows like it was daytime, and hear every drip of water like it was a clashing cymbal. 

She picked her way through the rocky cave until she came upon the gruesome sight of a shed basilisk skin. It had to be at least sixty feet in length and about six feet in diameter. Gwen should have been afraid, what with her deeply rooted belief that snakes were demonic, but her determination only hardened that much more. She continued on, following the skin until she reached an offshoot of the cave. She stopped, and listened to see if the basilisk was coming. When the only thing she heard was the obnoxiously loud dripping water, she turned the corner and continued on.

After maybe twenty feet of increasingly descending terrain, Gwen arrived at a large, bank-vault looking door. It had to be a least eight feet in diameter and about as thick, and the front was covered with interlocking snakes. Gwen shivered and grasped her sword tighter. She peered through the door, and saw a massive cavern with enormous snakes of stone lining a slick-looking pathway. Taking a deep breath, Gwen emerged through the entrance and descended the iron ladder to the floor. At the far end of the Chamber was what Gwen assumed to be a likeness of Salazar Slytherin carved into the wall of the Chamber. He was a cruel and stern looking man, and his iris-less eyes breathed insanity.

Tom, up until now, was nowhere to be seen, but just as Gwen was about to make her way to the statue, he appeared from behind one of the snake pillars. His usually impeccable hair was in alarming disarray, and his normally crisp clothes looked wrinkled and smudged with dirt. Something was defiantly wrong with this whole picture; Tom was not himself.

"Tom! What are you doing here?" Gwen bellowed.

Tom stopped slightly, and he slowly turned around to face Gwen. She gasped at the sight of his eyes. Instead of their normally black color, the entire eye seemed to be covered with a filmy red substance that completely obliterated the white part. He looked possessed. As soon as he locked his vision on her, though, the redness seemed to fade a bit. He stumbled towards her, arms outstretched like a zombie. Gwen stiffened, and tightened her grip on her wand. The closer he got to her, the less red his eyes appeared.

"Help me..." he whispered hoarsely as he nearly fell at her feet.

Gwen caught him by the arm and held him up, trying to steady him. She was terribly afraid and wasn't quite sure what to do. None of her training had prepared her for this. Tom Riddle had gone insane, and she was helpless.

"Tom, what's wrong?" she asked soothingly as she helped him lean against a snake pillar for support.

He stiffened at the sound of the name that he loathed. In a flash, the redness returned to his eyes, and they seemed to burn with demonic fury.

"No! Not Tom! I am Lord Voldemort!" he hissed as he straightened himself up to tower over her.

Gwen took a step backwards in shock. Suddenly, everything became alarmingly clear. He was insane, and his evil alter ego had taken over. Thinking quickly, Gwen decided to play along and lead him into a false sense of security…and well, she didn't want to think about what she might have to do then.

"Of course, my Lord, I'm sorry. Please forgive my ignorance," Gwen said in a calm and even tone as she placed her sword back in the sheath on her back and returned her wand to her belt.

He seemed to be placated for a moment at her words, and a cruel smile tugged at his lips.

"Well, well, it is such a _pleasure_ to finally meet you, Miss Morrison. I have heard so much about you. It seems your _dear_ 'Tommy boy' is quite fond of you…a little _too_ fond, if I do say so myself," Tom hissed in a voice that was not his own.

He advanced slowly towards her, like a cat circling its prey before it pounced.

"You know, I have never understood it, why he holds you in such high esteem. You certainly are no beauty, and you and I both know that you could never match his— _our—_ intellect," Voldemort purred as he circled around behind Gwen.

She whirled around to face him, and he chuckled slightly, a cold, high pitched laugh that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"Why so jittery this evening, Miss Morrison? What, do you think that I would put you harm's way? Tsk, tsk, ye of little faith. I am wounded to think that you do not trust me, after all that we have been through, after all that you have told me," Voldemort said that terrifyingly frigid voice of his.

Gwen remained silent, but her hand started to drift almost imperceptibly to her wand. Voldemort noticed, and he only laughed that much more, shaking his head in amusement.

"Ah, yes, of course, you were always one for action before thought. You may have bested Tom in the past, but that was because he was weak. I am not. Do you _really_ think that you can succeed against me?" he whispered violently as he flung her against one of the stone snakes with a slight movement of his hand.

Gwen was bound with invisible ropes, but she knew better than to struggle against them. She had to let Voldemort think he was in control. She had to save her strength for the basilisk, for she knew that he was about to release it. Even though he was an evil mastermind capable of a thousand times more destruction than Tom Riddle alone, Voldemort's plans were still hopelessly cliché. He cackled once more, and then turned swiftly and marched down to the end of the Chamber. He spoke to the basilisk in snake language, calling the beast out from its dwelling place. The sound of moving stone reached Gwen's sharp ears, as did the monstrous sound of the slithering of a giant snake.

"Come; let us match the power of the heirs of the two houses! Let us see once and for all, who is greater, Salazar Slytherin, or Gordic Gryffindor?" Voldemort boomed.

Gwen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was it.


	27. Purging Of The Soul

Chapter Twenty Seven

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Purging of the Soul**

**_No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness._****_  
-_****_Aristotle_**

The basilisk was hurtling its way down the Chamber when Tom, not Voldemort, screamed for it to stop. The basilisk stopped about one stone statue away from where Gwen was imprisoned, and that gave her just enough time to free herself from her magical bindings. She dropped to the floor quietly, not wanting to alert the basilisk any more than necessary to her whereabouts. She whipped out her sword, clasped it tightly, and quietly ran behind several of the pillars until she reached the back of the basilisk's head. With one might running leap, she climbed aboard its back and rammed the blade into the giant snake's brain.

It twisted around furiously, and Gwen hung on with all her might like a cowboy on a bucking bronco as the basilisk reared and flailed around the Chamber, slamming its head against the statues and the walls of the cavern, twisting, thrashing, trying to rid itself of Gwen. Finally, after what seemed like an agonizingly long time, the beast fell over against the wall, crashing into several of the statues and sending Gwen flying through the air until she landed hard against one of the statues and then slammed into the ground. She laid there for a minute, trying desperately to breathe as the air had been violently knocked out of her. Suddenly, she felt strong arms encircle her as Tom turned her over gently, with tears streaming down his dirt-smudged faced.

"Are you alright?" he whispered over as he cradled Gwen in his arms.

His eyes weren't red anymore.

"I-I'm ok," Gwen finally managed to breath.

She pushed herself up to a standing position with Tom's help. He held her close, much closer than she had ever been to him, and she felt uncomfortably warm. He was trembling and kept pulling her closer and closer until they were merely centimeters apart.

"Help me! He's taking over and I can't hold on much longer!" Tom pleaded as he looked down at Gwen imploringly. "Gwen! Please!"

Gwen looked up at him in pure shock. He'd called her Gwen _and_ he'd used a contraction. He _never_ did that. Was this the real Tom standing in front of her? He was so vulnerable, like a small child that needed help crossing the street. She didn't know how to help him, but she vowed that she would do whatever it took to help him rid him of this madness. Just as she was about to say something comforting, the redness returned to his eyes.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BASILISK?!" Voldemort bellowed as he shoved Gwen away from him.

Gwen steadied herself and steeled her resolve. She knew what she had to do.

"I killed it. Now, don't be angry, my lord, for I was saving you," Gwen replied solidly.

"Really, how did you save me by killing my ancestor's pet?" Voldemort asked suspiciously.

"Didn't it strike you as odd that I knew about the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets? No one else in the school, not even that doddering old fool Dumbledore knew where the Chamber was located, yet I was easily able to find it. Strange, don't you think?" Gwen asked coyly.

Voldemort considered this for a moment.

"I believe, Miss Morrison, that there is more to you than you are telling me. Perhaps it is time to find out the truth?" he inquired with a sinister smile.

"My Lord, there will be no need for mind reading. I should have told you everything from the beginning... but I was too weak and unsure of how strong your hold on Tom was to deluge any more information than necessary. But now, I feel is the right time to tell you everything, and believe me, what I'm about to say is a _really_ big deal. Are you sure you want the truth?" Gwen question slowly.

"I demand the truth at all times, Miss Morrison. I am not a person to be lied to or to be trifled with. Speak up!" Voldemort snarled.

"I'm from the future," Gwen said simply.

Voldemort took a step back with an incredulous look on his face.

"What?" he snapped, his freakish eyes narrowing.

"I said I'm from the future," Gwen repeated. "How else would I know so much about you? I knew that you were an orphan. I knew that you were the heir of Slytherin. I knew that you would open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the basilisk. But the reason I killed the basilisk was because I knew that it would inadvertently kill Myrtle, and I didn't want that on your record, my Lord," Gwen explained smoothly.

Voldemort raised one eye brow and smirked.

"If you are from the future, as you claim, then you should know that I already had a plan to deal with any unfortunate accidents that might occur. That oaf Gryffindor, Hagrid keeps all kinds of nasty little creatures, one of which is a young acromantula. All I would have had to do is set the blame on him, as I am a prefect with a perfect record and impeccable grades. No one would have considered for a second that I would do anything…_evil_," he replied arrogantly.

"I know my Lord, but as I said, I didn't want you to kill Myrtle…why have such a pathetic kill for your first horcrux?" Gwen said with feigned reverence.

"You know about my horcruxes?"

"Of course my Lord, I know _everything_, about you. That's why I came back in time…to show you your future. Do you want to see your future?" Gwen purred suggestively.

"How can you show me my future?" he questioned.

"Just watch…" she replied cryptically.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on a clear image of Voldemort in his twisted state—the way he looked in his encounter with Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. However, something seemed to be interfering with her Transfiguration abilities. She opened her eyes, and Tom/Voldemort seemed to be having some sort of seizure. His eyes were changing back and forth from red to normal and shades in between.

"Gwen! I can't control it anymore! Do something!" Tom screamed at his frantically pulled at his hair.

"No! I am Voldemort! I am in control!" he hissed.

"Help!"

"No!"

"Let go boy! You are not match for me!"

"Gwen!"

Back and forth he changed, his spastic convulsing increased in furry. Gwen feared for Tom's life; he was going to kill himself if she didn't do something quick. She whipped out her wand and yelled the stupefying curse. A red blast of light emitted from the end of her wand and connected with Tom, but instead of stupefying him, a blindingly white light bounced off of his chest and sent both Tom and Gwen flying backwards. The light glowed brighter and brighter, until a vague outline of a figure could be seen shining with it. The light faded as quickly as it started, and standing in the middle of the Chamber was none other than Lord Voldemort, evil incarnate. He glowered over the two prone figures before him and kicked the unconscious Tom out of the way.

"My _dear_ Tom, what _can_ I say? You have been a good vessel for me but you have weakened significantly and I am afraid you are no longer of use to me. Goodbye, _old friend_," Voldemort hissed as he took Tom's wand and pointed it at the comatose boy.

But before he could perform the killing curse, Gwen plunged her sword into his back, causing the Dark Lord to drop the wand and shriek in agony. He whipped around, causing Gwen to fall onto her back.

"Foolish girl! You will not stand in my way!" he hissed.

"No! You're wrong! I will _always_ stand in your way! My place is between you and the world, between you and Tom! The light will always prevail over darkness! _Always_!" she screamed as she scooted backwards.

Voldemort laughed maliciously, and as though to prove the point that he wasn't going to die easily, he pulled the blade out of his black and threw it down carelessly to the floor.

"Ah, Miss Morrison, you are so brave and so head strong, yet so naïve. When will you learn that the darkness that lives within all men can never be conquered?" Voldemort spat viciously. "Now, my girl, you will taste true darkness— the darkness of death."

"_Avada Kedvra!"_

Gwen waited to see the bright light, to see her life flash before her eyes, but nothing happened. She cocked one eye open just in time to see Voldemort's body fall lifelessly to the floor, revealing Tom standing behind him, wand drawn. He rushed to her, and dropped to his knees. He reached out his hand for her, and then he collapsed on the floor at her side. His eyes flickered open and shut, and he kept mumbling incoherently. Gwen was hesitant to do anything; she didn't want to provoke him further into madness or damage his psyche any more than it already was. She wasn't sure how to handle such rapid changes in his personality, and she didn't even want to think about how confused and fragile Tom must be. They both sat there on the wet Chamber floor, panting and trying to understand what happened.

It was a gruesome sight; they were both caked in filth and grime, clothes torn and bloody gashes all over their bodies. On one side of the Chamber was the already stinking corpse of the basilisk, and on the other, a few feet away from Tom and Gwen, was the rigid body of Voldemort.

"How do we get out of here?" Gwen asked after a while.

"I-I don't know. He made me come down here, and I don't remember much else…" he whispered faintly, like a person saying their last words on earth.

"Tom, it's alright. I'm ok, _we're_ ok now. Don't worry about it," she said soothingly as she patted his arm consolingly.

Suddenly, the familiar cry of Fawkes filled the air. The magnificent phoenix swooped into the cavern, followed by Fiona, the female phoenix. Both birds descended gracefully to land near the two students. Fawkes grabbed Tom with his talons by the back of his collar and lifted the young man up in the air, and flew away, back towards the entrance in the girls bathroom. Fiona grabbed Gwen in a similar fashion, but not before Gwen grabbed her sword off the ground, where it lay near the corpse of Voldemort.

The birds soared upwards, flying higher and higher until they reached the mouth of the entrance. Fawkes dropped Tom off gently on the tile floor, and then soared off, back up to Gryffindor tower. Tom's legs collapsed out from under him, but Dumbledore caught him by the arm, and helped Tom into a stretcher from St. Mungos. Gwen arrived shortly thereafter, and although she was completely cognizant, Dumbledore insisted that she too be taken to the hospital for observation.

"But Professor, I'm fine. _Really_," Gwen pleaded as the orderlies pushed her on the stretcher.

"Don't argue with me about this Gwen. You need more advanced medical care than the school can give you. You're going and that is final," Dumbledore said authoritatively.

"Fine," Gwen mumbled under her breath, but in reality, she was extremely thankful to be going to the hospital.

Dumbledore escorted the two students through the castle and to the outskirts of the grounds, where the adults aparated to St.Mungos. Gwen experienced that horrid squeezing and pulling sensation that she loathed. What happened after that was pretty much a blur of doctors, healing spells, and bright lights. The last thing Gwen remembered before she drifted off into a dreamless sleep was the sound of Dumbledore's voice.

"I'm very proud of you Gwen. You have not only saved the world, but you have helped save a young man from a tragic future. Your ancestors would be proud."


	28. Connected

Chapter Twenty Eight

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Connected**

_**Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.**_

_**-Emily Bronte**_

Gwen woke up several days later to find herself dressed in hospital white pants and shirt, lying in a blasé eggshell colored room. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to go back to sleep, for she had never been more exhausted. A few moments later, Gwen fluttered open her eyes again and flopped over on her side. It was no use. She couldn't go back to sleep, not with all the questions swimming through her head. The ordeal in the Chamber had been the most traumatic and horrific experience of her life, far worse than when she learned that her parents were dead and a thousand times worse than when Isolde cursed her.

There were so many questions that raced through her head, but the most prevalent dealt with Tom's wellbeing. Gwen feared for his life and his mental state. He had gone through massive personality changes, right in front of her eyes, and then when her life was in danger, he essentially killed a part of himself to save her. She hoped that he wasn't seriously damaged by the events of last night, but Gwen seriously doubted if Tom would ever be "normal' again, not that he ever was "normal" to begin with.

Had he always had multiple personalities? If so, that did a lot to explain why he became who he did. Everything certainly made sense, given this new information. Gwen couldn't help but feel endless sympathy for Tom. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like, living with voices screaming in your head everyday until they took over and you ceased to exist. Her heart ached to think that maybe, all along, the real Tom had been trapped inside, just screaming to get out. If only she had know! She would have never let him suffer like that, not in a million years. Gwen lay there some more, drumming her fingers in mounting anxiety. She looked at the clock that was mounted on the opposite wall from the bed. It was only seven in the morning. She sighed. Didn't the nurses come in and check on people in this place? What was taking so long? She had questions that needed answering! She had to know how Tom was doing!

As if to answer her growing impatience, there was a small rap on her door, and Dumbledore entered, followed by a kind-looking middle-aged nurse with flame red hair.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" the nurse asked soothingly.

"I'm alright, all things considered. Is Tom ok?" Gwen blurted out, concern written all over her face.

The nurse faltered for a moment, and glanced sideways at Dumbledore. He nodded gravely.

"Well, sweetie, he's…not doing very well. We haven't been able to get him to say anything…other than… your name," the nurse said gently.

"What?" Gwen asked confusedly.

"Gwen, if its not too much trouble and you feel up to it, Mrs. Cottonfeathers and I would like for you to visit Tom. Maybe you can help bring him out of this," Dumbledore said quietly from where he was standing by the window.

"How can I help him when doctors can't?" Gwen sighed dejectedly.

She was really getting tired of this whole 'save the world' drama. Why couldn't she be a normal witch and lead a boring life with no time travel, no famous ancestors, and no burdensome knowledge of the future? But a normal life would mean a life without Tom, and frankly, a life without Tom seemed boring and lifeless, cold and static. Gwen didn't want to live a life without him. She'd spent far too much time and poured way too much effort into him to suddenly not have him in her life.

"When can I see him?" Gwen asked quietly.

"After you eat some breakfast and clean up a bit, dearie. Take you're time," Mrs. Cottonfeathers replied matronly.

"Do I have to eat oatmeal?" Gwen asked as she wrinkled up her nose in disgust. "Because I hate oatmeal."

Mrs. Cottonfeathers giggled in a high-pitched and good-natured kind of way.

"No dearie, you don't have to eat oatmeal."

* * *

Gwen tip-toed into Tom's room not knowing quite what to expect. The shades were pulled back, and weak sunlight filled the drab and dreary room. Tom was lying prone in a narrow, typical hospital bed. His pale skin was almost the color of the practically colorless walls and sheets. His normally razor sharp eyes were dull and lifeless, and his beautiful, glossy hair seemed limp and faded. Gwen sighed sadly. 

"_Oh_ _Tom_…what have you done to yourself?" she whispered under her breath as she slowly advanced.

She stood by his bed and watched him for a moment, her heat breaking apart piece by piece with each ragged breath he took. His head flopped slowly to the side and his eyes stared at her vacantly. Gwen stood stock still and held her breath. She lowered herself slowly onto the edge of the side of the bed.

"I don't know if you can hear me. Some people say that you can still hear… when you're…I hope you can hear me…" she whispered sadly.

She just sat there, staring at him with tears in her eyes that threatened to spill over and onto her face. Gwen reached down and timidly pushed a strand of stray hair off his face. She slowly traced over his cheekbones with feather light finger tips, memorizing his beautifully sculpted face with her hands. She leaned forward and hovered over his head in a moment of hesitation. Slowly, gently, she pressed an almost imperceptible kiss in his hair.

"Tom…_Tom_. I know you're in there. I can feel you struggling to come to the surface. We're connected, you and I. I know you and you know me. We are but a mere shadow of ourselves without the other. That's why I know you will _fight_ this and you will _win_. Until that time, I'll be here, right by your side, waiting. I won't leave without you," Gwen whispered in his ear.

She pulled back and studied his face, hoping that her pep talk might rouse him from the depths of his mind. He just lay there docilely, but Gwen could feel deep in her heart that he was waking up, if ever-so-slowly. His eyes started to blink lazily, and his chest started to rise and fall into their regular rhythm as he took deeper and deeper breaths. Gwen caught her breath in her throat. He was fighting, struggling even harder to come back to the surface of sanity. However, a few minutes passed and Tom did nothing more than appear to be in a deep, normal sleep. Gwen sighed. This would have to do for now.

* * *

Two more days passed like this, with Gwen visiting Tom and encouraging him to fight his demons. On the second day, Gwen wasn't sure when she had dozed off, but when she woke with a start because her foot had fallen asleep, she saw that the sun was low in the sky. She raised her head up from the bed, and she cracked her neck and back. It was then that she noticed that Tom was awake, and he was staring at her. 

"Hullo," he said quietly.

"You're awake!" Gwen screeched as she literally fell out of her chair and landed with a loud thump on her butt.

Tom chuckled quietly and sat up, but he soon regretted it due to a massively throbbing headache that slammed against the back of his head. Gwen stood up with a huge smile on her face that faded instantly when she noticed the grimace of pain on Tom's face.

"Are you ok?" she asked concernedly as she reached a hand out towards him.

"It's just a headache, though this is the worst one I've had in a while. I need some fresh air," he mumbled as he massaged his head.

"Alright, I'll call the nurse and we'll take you outside," Gwen said as she moved towards the door to fetch the nurse from the hall.

"No, don't get the nurse. I can make it by myself," Tom commanded, his voice sounding a bit tired, but a lot like it used to.

"Are you sure?" Gwen asked.

"Yes. You'll come with me, won't you?" he stated more than asked.

"Of course," Gwen replied.

She walked over to the bed, and waited as Tom gingerly sat up and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed. Once he steadied himself in the sitting position, he attempted to stand, but his legs nearly collapsed under him. Gwen' arm shot out at lightning speed and caught him around the waist, bringing him face to face with her. Both adolescents inhaled sharply, and stiffened at the close contact.

"Ready?" Gwen mumbled after a while.

Tom nodded and pulled away slightly, though he still leaned heavily on Gwen for support as they walked over to the window. She helped Tom sit down on the window seat, and then she opened the window to let in the cooling evening air. Spring was just around the corner, and the scent of rebirthing nature wafted in through the breeze.

Tom breathed in deeply, and closed his eyes, letting the healing fresh air wash over him. Color slowly seeped into his cheeks, though he still was creamy white as always. Tom opened his eyes, and they seemed brighter, lighter, and fuller of life.

"How long have we been in the hospital?" he asked.

Gwen's heart leapt slightly at the use of the pronoun 'we' instead of 'I'.

"I don't know, but I think I heard Dumbledore say something about us being here for about a week," she replied quietly, her eyes never leaving his face.

"It seems longer than that," Tom said ruefully.

Gwen didn't say anything, but merely nodded instead. Silence descended once again upon them, but it was a comfortable, easy silence. After a while, Tom spoke up.

"You haven't told me why you saved me."

Gwen looked a bit startled at such a bold and blanket statement, and she blinked rapidly in obvious surprise.

"I didn't save you Tom, you did that yourself. If anything, you saved me, remember? It was you that killed Voldemort, not me," she replied slowly.

Tom remained quiet for a while, and then said, "I need to get my homework. Can you imagine how much I've missed? It will take you _forever_ to finish all your Potions assignments! As soon as we get back to Hogwarts you and are going to spend double time on your Potions. I won't have you falling behind; even if I'm sure I could persuade Slughorn to give you some slack. After all, I am his favorite student, and I can be _very_ persuasive."

Gwen groaned out loud and rolled her eyes expressively.

"Tom, please! You've only been cognizant for twenty minutes and the first thing you want to do is _homework_?" she asked with disbelieving disgust.

"_What_? You make that sound like a bad thing," he exclaimed innocently.

Gwen just shook her head and grinned.

"Some things never change," she muttered.

* * *

"Hey loser, I brought your homework," Gwen said loudly as she threw the door open to Tom's hospital room and sauntered in, dragging a huge bag of books behind her.

She had been given a clean bill of health the day after Tom woke up and she returned to Hogwarts the day after that. Tom, on the other hand, was still fragile enough that the doctors wanted to keep him a while longer for observation. That really ticked Tom off, but the doctors made the concession that Gwen could come visit him everyday until he was allowed back in public. That cheered Tom up enough to where he actually cooperated with the doctors, albeit rather snootily.

Gwen levitated the bag of books over to where Tom was sitting in bed and flopped them unceremoniously in his lap. Fortunately, he was used to this treatment, so he was able to catch the load of books before they squashed the Riddle family jewels.

"How kind of you," Tom replied snarkily.

"Nice to see you too, sweetheart," Gwen shot back. "What got your panties into such a twist?" she asked as she pulled up her usual chair next to him.

He sighed heavily.

"You don't even _want_ to know," he muttered darkly as he pulled out his Transfiguration textbook and flipped to the pages that Gwen had marked for him.

"Well, whatever it is can't be nearly as bad as what I had to go through," Gwen stated confidently.

"Oh? And what perilous adventure did our brave young heroine go through today?" he sneered with a raised eyebrow.

"You know how we hate each other, right? We're sworn enemies, locked in an epic battle until Judgment Day and trumpets sound, right? " she asked flippantly.

He nodded solemnly.

"Of course."

"Right. So naturally the news of us ending up in St. Mungos would only serve to further that idea, wouldn't you think?"

He nodded again.

"Well, the most popular rumor circulating Hogwarts says that I'm really a member of Grinwald's forces and that you found me out and tried to apprehend me and we ended up blasting each other into oblivion. "

"What _imbecile_ thought that up?" he said disbelievingly.

"I _know_! Crazy isn't it? I mean, you would think that people could come up with a better story than that wouldn't you? Like I was pregnant or something!" Gwen exclaimed.

Tom, who was drinking some water, spewed it out through his nose.

"But we haven't even known each other for nine months! It's only been six months, two weeks, and one day!" he replied.

Gwen stopped short and blinked like a goldfish.

"Y-you've been counting all the day's we've known each other?" she asked in genuine surprise.

"Well, I've just counted all the days I was in school, and I met you on the first day, so…Is that a problem? Are you going to make some sarcastic comment about me studying too much or being a bookworm, or something of that nature?" he said defensively.

"Actually, I was going to say I was flattered. I'm not _completely_ heartless and insensitive, at least, _most_ of the time," she answered patiently.

"Oh. Right."

"So how was your day? We might as well compare battle scars," Gwen said as she tried to steer the conversation back on course.

"I…Ireally don't want to talk about it," he mumbled shakily as he looked back down at his Transfiguration book.

Gwen looked at him sternly, and was about to demand that he tell her what happened, when she noticed an unusual amount of moisture in his eyes. He kept pretending to read, but Gwen knew he really wasn't paying the least of attention to the text. She reached for a tissue and silently passed it to him. Tom slid his eyes over to the outstretched tissue and then back to the book. He took a deep breath.

"Do you ever wonder about you parents?" he asked coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Sometimes, though not as much as I used to. Their memory has faded slightly in my mind," Gwen answered truthfully. "Why?"

"I think about who my parents could be all the time. I've searched all of the records I can get my hands on, and I can't find a mention of a wizard named 'Riddle' anywhere. I…I think my father might have been a Muggle. You're from the future, and you know all about me. Is my father a Muggle?" Tom asked with a higher, edgier voice than normal.

He turned to face her, with large, questioning eyes that made Gwen's heart sink. She knew that they would eventually need to have this conversation, but she was hoping that it would be later rather than sooner.

"Yes, Tom, your father is a Muggle," Gwen answered quietly as she dropped her hand that was holding the tissue.

"And my mother?" he pressed.

"Her name was Merope and she was a witch," Gwen explained.

"How did they meet? Why did my father leave? Are they dead?" Tom asked in rapid fire succession.

"Tom, I really don't think know is the time to talk about this. Let's talk when you get out of here, ok?" she pleaded rationally.

"NO! I want to talk about it now!" Tom demanded as he slammed his fist on the rail of his bed.

Gwen sighed.

"What do yo want to know?"

"Tell me everything."

* * *

Ok my loyal readers, I have some sad news. I'm only going to start posting once a week, because I need time to type more chapters. I'll try and post every Friday, but I can't make any promises.


	29. All These Things I've Done

Chapter Twenty Nine

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**All These Things I've Done**

_**Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.**_

_**-Zora Neale Hurston**_

Gwen sighed deeply and ran a hand through her hair. Where to start? There was so much to tell, and she wasn't 100 sure Tom would be able to handle the truth about his parents and more importantly, the awful truth about himself.

"Well, your mother, Merope Gaunt, was a witch; it is from her blood that you get your powers and subsequence relation to Slytherin. Her father, Marvolo, and brother, Morfin, were very abusive to her and always derided her. The only good thing in her life was Tom Riddle Sr., your father. He was…a… aristocratic… Muggle… from Little Hangleton…" Gwen trailed off as she glanced sideways at Tom.

His face was stone cold and his bottomless black eyes were as unreadable as a doctor's handwriting. Gwen waited patiently for him to indicate that he wanted to hear the rest of the story. She knew that the confirmation that his father was a Muggle would not go over well, but now that he was "good", maybe his reaction wouldn't be quite so negative.

"How did my parents meet?" Tom asked quietly as he fidgeted with his blanket.

"Your father was riding past your mother's home like he would do frequently. She always watched for him, and as she was rather talented in potion making, much like you, and she made a love potion and gave it to him when he stopped. From there the details get a bit sketchy, but apparently your mother stopped giving him the potion when she was pregnant. I think she wanted to believe that he truly loved her. Shortly thereafter, he abandoned her and returned to Little Hangleton, where he told people that he had been tricked by a witch."

Gwen paused again, and looked over to Tom.

"And?" he inquired with agitation in his tone.

"Well, your mother had to sell a family heirloom, Slytherin's locket, for a pathetic sum of 10 gaellons to keep from starving. She died shortly after giving birth to you, and requested that you be named after your biological father and grandfather. I think you know the rest from there."

Another pause, and this time it was longer than the rest.

"Is my father still alive?" Tom asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes."

Yet another silence occurred, and this one was shorter than the last, but much more oppressive and moody.

"What…what…do I become in the future?" he said finally.

Gwen groaned inwardly. How do you tell someone that they become the most evil being ever known to mankind?

"Well, if you hadn't killed Voldemort, he would have eventually taken over. Myrtle would have been killed by the basilisk and you would have made your diary your first horcrux. Then, in the summer before your seventh year, you would have killed your dad and his parents, and modified your Uncle Morfin's memory to make it look like he did it. Through those three deaths you were able to create two more horcruxes— one being the locket that your mother sold, and the other being your grandfather's ring. After that, you go back to school, become Head Boy, etc. After you graduate, you apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts. Dippet refuses, saying you're too young. So, instead of going to work for the Ministry like everyone expected you would, you go to work for Borgin and Burkes, where you find the locket was sold to Hepzibah Smith, a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. She also owned a cup belonging Hufflepuff, which you stole, murdered Hepzibah to create yet another horcurx, and framed her house elf for the murder."

"From there, you would have travel the world, presumably to learn more of the Dark Arts, and create other horcuxes—forgive me, but I don't remember all of them, but you would have made seven of them. Anyway, when you're about twenty eight, you would have reapply for the DADA job, but Dumbledore, who is headmaster by this time, refuses. You curse the job so that no teacher can hold it for more than one year."

Gwen cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. Remarkably, she wasn't drumming her fingers in her usual nervous tick.

More silence.

"Does anyone stop me?" Tom asked apprehensively.

"Yes, a boy named Harry Potter, who was my headmaster before I came here. Man that seems like such a long time ago! Anyway, yes, he defeats you, several times in fact. The first was when he was a baby. You see, a prophesy was made, saying that basically one or the other of you would have to die. So, you went to Harry's parent's house and killed them, and then tried to kill Harry, but miraculously, the killing curse rebounded off of him and destroyed you. He only had a lightening shaped scar on his forehead to indicate that anything had happened to him. You, however, weren't totally dead, since you made those horcruxes; you were still alive, technically. Anyway, Harry, who coincidentally, had miserable childhood as well, in his first year, thwarted your plan to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"In Harry's second year, Lucius Malfoy, Abraxas's son, planted your diary in Ginny Weasly's cauldron. She being the typically lonely little girl, confided in the diary, and in doing so, she allowed you, through the horcurx, to posses her. She opened the Chamber of Secrets and released the basilisk—it didn't kill anyone, but it did petrify a few people, one of which was Hermione Granger, one of Harry's best friends. Harry was able to intervene in time before you took over Ginny completely, and he killed the basilisk with my 'fancy letter opener', and then used the basilisk's fang to destroy the diary."

"In Harry's third year, you lie surprisingly low, but in Harry's fourth year, you come back with a bang. You have one of your minions pose as the DADA professor, and then he enters Harry into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and Harry, being the hero and all, wins, only to find himself in the graveyard where your father and you are supposedly buried. There another follower of yours, one so 'affectionately' known as Wormtail, helps resurrect you by using some of Harry's blood. You and Harry duel, but since your wands are both powered by Fawkes's feathers, you release '_Prior Incantantum,_' a spell that basically replays the last spell performed in the other wand. Since the last spell you performed was killing Harry's parents, they're spirits returned and protected Harry long enough for him to escape."

"Then in Harry's fifth year you storm the Ministry of Magic to find that prophesy about you and Harry. Fortunately, Dumbledore was able to stop you, though not before one of your followers kills Harry's godfather, Sirius. In Harry's sixth year, Dumbledore teaches Harry about horcurxes, and at the end of the term, Professor Snape, the DADA professor, kills Dumbledore, which causes massive depletion to people's hope. Eleven years later, Harry eventually defeats you," Gwen said.

A pause.

"H-how many people die because of me?" Tom asked quietly.

"Oh, goodness, I couldn't even begin to count. It would be well into the hundreds of thousands, if not millions," Gwen answered exasperatedly with a wave of her hand.

"W-what about your parents? D-did I kill them?" he whispered hoarsely as he slowly turned to face her, eyes cast down in shame.

"I don't know if you specifically killed them. All I know is that they died in the pandemonium during your final battle with Harry. It would be impossible to know who killed who, because at least ten thousand people died that day," Gwen answered truthfully.

Tom looked down even more and blinked rapidly, before turning around to his side and curling up into the fetal position.

"No wonder you hate me," he mumbled from where he was trying to hide his impending tears.

"No, _hated_, past tense. I don't feel that way anymore, I've forgiven you," Gwen said sincerely. "If I hated you, I certainly wouldn't be here right now, would I? Do you see any of your so-called friends here? I'm not going to lie to you, Tom. There was a time when I seriously contemplated killing you. I came close to doing it several times, but good reason won in the end. Besides, I wasn't sent here to kill you, I was sent here to change you and fulfill the prophesy."

"W-what prophesy?"

"A prophesy was made many years ago saying that the heir's of Slytherin and Gryffindor must unite to heal the rift in the magical world and prevent total darkness. Now that you aren't going to take over the world, I think we can safely say that total darkness has been prevented."

Tom didn't ask any more questions, and Gwen remained silent, to let him digest the information she had just shared with him. A few minutes passed, and to Gwen's great astonishment, she heard Tom sniffling, trying desperately to conceal his weeping. Gwen's heart ached for him; she couldn't imagine how hard it must be to know such appalling truth about oneself. She silently slid out of her chair and sat down onto the side of the bed. Tom just curled up farther into himself.

"L-leave me alone," he commanded miserably.

"No."

"Damn it Gwen! Go away!" he said as he forcefully turned over to face her.

His porcelain cheeks were stained with tears and his ebony eyes rimmed in red. He shook his head violently and attempted to cover it with a long fingered hand.

"I don't want to be seen like this. Crying is a sign of weakness, and I will not be seen as weak!" he hissed.

"Actually crying is the body's way of expelling toxins in highly emotional situations. So in reality, you're not weak at all, but simply cleansing yourself of harmful poisons," she said matter-of-factly.

He snorted and shook his head with a cynical laugh.

"Typical. You always have to be on top," he snarled.

Awkward pause.

"E-excuse me?" she asked incredulously. "What did you just say?"

"Oh! I-I mean, you always have to have the last word in an argument," he stuttered once he realized his Freudian slip.

"Oh, right. Of course," she responded as she turned at least five shades of pink. "I guess you're right, I always do have to have the last word. I think that's a common trait to all females, though. And besides, I figured you'd go for the more scholarly explanation for crying than me telling you that it doesn't make you any less of a man to show your emotions."

"Ah, how thoughtful of you," he replied flippantly.

"Well, it worked didn't it?" she responded with a bright and kind smile.

"Perhaps, but I still wish you'd leave," he said with a heavy sigh and a deep frown.

"No. I'm not going anywhere, no matter how much you protest. I vowed to stay with you through this rough patch in your life, and I'm not leaving you, no matter how much you want me to. I won't let you wallow in your own self pity or feel like you are alone in this. So long as I'm around, you're never alone. I won't ever leave you," Gwen murmured soothingly as she gently patted his hand.

He curled his long fingers around her little hand, as though doing so were the most normal and natural thing to do and sighed.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" he grumbled defeatedly. "You are the most consistently arrogant person I know. You never take no for an answer, and you have a knack for getting on my every last nerve. And yet…I don't know what life would be like without you."

Gwen blinked rapidly, and her face contorted into an expression of extreme surprise and something else— hope. Tom, for his part, felt incredibly stupid for his sudden burst of emotion, and he moved to stand up and leave, when she gently pulled him closer and into a loose hug. Tom, who had denied the existence of happiness and love for so long was extremely frightened at his current state of emotions. He didn't want to admit it, but Gwen's sheer presence helped heal the ache in his heart. He was a weak, a fool. He was in love. Only pathetic, weak fools fall in love.

Gwen, in a similar line of thinking, reviewed the drastic and uncharted track her life had taken. She was sitting on Tom's bed, embracing with the boy who was supposed to be her sworn enemy. He was no more than two inches from her, and she wanted nothing more than to remain like this for all eternity. She was an idiot; she'd turned into one of those silly, love struck little girls that she so despised. She was in love; a feeling she never thought she'd have the privilege to experience.

"No more tears, no more crying. All of that doesn't have to happen now," she whispered into his ear as she traced circular patters on his back with her fingers.

"You've turned me into a simpering idiot," he muttered ruefully.

"Now that sounds more like the Tom I know, and for the record, you're not an idiot," she giggled slightly as she blushed and glanced down. "Pretty soon you'll be sending me flowers and chocolates and sappy poems."

"I hate poetry," he grumbled.

"Good. So do I," she agreed.

"This is scaring me on how much we agree on things," he chided as he pulled away slightly.

"Well, what have I always said? You and I are more alike than either of us is willing to admit. Come on; let me hear you say it. 'Gwen, you're right.' Come one, just once, I know you want to!"

He groaned.

"Can't you ever be serious? You just told me that I'm basically evil incarnate and that my mother's family is insane and I was born out of a sham marriage, and I had a hand in the death of your family. Yet you're cracking jokes with me. I'm seriously considering turning you into the mental ward. You need it more than I do."

"Too late for that, I'm afraid. I've been cleared, remember? According to the doctors, I'm perfectly sane and in good health," she said devilishly.

"My faith in humanity had diminished that much more. Thanks for that," he replied sarcastically.

"I always try to do my best to help."

"And you do help me, more than you'll ever know. Gwen, you're the light in my darkness. When I was struggling, and I wanted to die, I thought of you, and I knew I had to persevere. You can laugh at me all you want and say I'm sappy and pathetic. That's because I am, and you made me this way. Just know that if you leave me, you'll kill me. Do you want that on your conscience?" he stated gravely as he cupped her chin in his hand.

"Tom…I…I'd never leave you. You know that," she answered quietly as her grass green eyes locked onto his chocolate orbs, and she leaned closer, as though his dark eyes were hypnotizing her and drawing her closer.

Slowly they inched towards each other, neither willing to pull away, but both scared to proceed. Tom's spidery hands slid down her back, creating a euphoric wave down her spine. Their lips brushed somewhat awkwardly against each other, but it was enough to make both parties want more of the other. Tom pulled Gwen closer to him, forcing her head to tilt to one side and her nose squash against his hollow cheek. She sighed gently, relishing in this newfound pleasure.

All those years of their loneliness, of aching and sorrow, were washed away. Tom poured all his pent up emotion, all his love that he thought he never could share, all his longing to belong and to be wanted, he poured it all into that one kiss. The words he didn't know how to say and the emotions he didn't even know he had were all exposed in that wondrous, deliriously sensual kiss. Gwen, for her part, could barely put two coherent thoughts together. Whatever lingering anger towards Tom she harbored was quickly thrown out the window and replaced by the knowledge that they loved each other. He didn't have to say it, and neither did she. The kiss was enough.

Gwen finally had to pull away from his dancing lips to catch her breath. She smiled with her eyes closed and sniffed deeply, burrowing her head into his neck as one hand reached up to ruffle his dark hair. Tom kissed the top of her head and then let his lips trace down her cheek and to her jaw line. Little did either one know, but Dumbledore had walked in the room at that moment. Realizing the intimacy of the situation, the Transfiguration master turned around briskly and left the room, a small smile playing on his mouth. He passed by Mrs. Cottonfeathers as she was opening the note from a large bouquet of flowers.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Cottonfeathers," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

The matronly nurse smiled and returned the greeting. Dumbledore continued on his way out of the hospital and into the night. As he prepared to apparate to Hogwarts, the wise old wizard popped a lemon drop into his mouth and muttered to himself, "All is right with the world."


	30. A New Day Dawns

Chapter Thirty

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**A New Day Dawns**

_**The best proof of love is trust.**_

_**-Joyce Brothers**_

As Tom Riddle sat at his desk in Transfiguration, his mind was for once not solely on the lecture notes. He glanced surreptitiously over at Gwen, eyeing her gently out of the corner of his eye. The mid morning sun was lightly bouncing off her hair, softly accenting the slight golden highlights in it. She was lovely, he thought, not gorgeous or buxom or a sexpot, but lovely. Things had been…different, to say the least, after they returned from the hospital. He was welcome back with open arms and much pomp and circumstance by his house, and former followers. However much they cheered and welcomed him, he no longer felt as much at home in the presence of such fickle and lecherous company. He was a changed man, and flattery, while he still craved it, failed to satisfy him like it used to do.

Gwen must have sensed he was looking at her, for she cleared her throat slightly and nodded her head slightly at Dumbledore, as if to remind Tom to pay attention. His dark eyes flicked up slightly, as though to plead like a small child who didn't want to go to bed, "Do I have to?" Gwen's eyed hardened momentarily, as though to reply firmly, "_Yes_ you have to pay attention, whether you like it or not."

"Ok get into pairs with the person across the row from you. Miss Morrison and Mr. Riddle, you will work together, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Desai, and so and so forth. You will be writing an essay on what you think your partner's Animangus form might be. I want you to get to know your partner; know their likes and dislikes. You have the rest of the period to interview each other. If you need more time, please find a time to get together after class. That is all, please carry on," Dumbledore instructed.

Tom glanced over at Gwen, a small and almost imperceptibly mischievous grin on his handsome face.

"Move over," he said brusquely as he stood next to Gwen's desk.

"You have two good legs; walk around to the other side," Gwen retorted playfully.

"Fine."

Tom carelessly dropped his books on the other side of the bench where Gwen was sitting, and slid in next to her, making sure to sit close enough to her that his knee brushed against her. Gwen just grinned coyly and leaned her head on her right hand.

"You know, I really don't know why we have to do this. I mean, I'm obviously going to turn into a lion and you'll be a nasty old snake. There's my essay, in one sentence," Gwen bemoaned.

"I do not think that is quite what Professor Dumbledore wanted us to do, Miss Morrison. Now, let us get this 'interview' over with as quickly as possible. I know you are not fond of me, so I will not force you to tolerate my presence for any longer than necessary," Tom said smoothly.

"How kind of you, Tommy boy."

"I do try my best to please you, Miss Morrison."

"Oh, and you _do_. _Most_ of the time at least, last night being the rare exception."

"Yes, well, I am sorry about that. I was just so tired."

Gwen was about to say something in reply, when she noticed that the entire classroom was staring at them, eyes wide and mouths hanging wide open.

"Well what do you think we've been doing all those nights in the dungeon? Studying?" Gwen addressed the class.

She laughed gaily and ran a hand down Tom's arm suggestively.

"Why Tommy boy here is the consummate 'Potions' teacher. He knows all the right 'wand movements' that really make my 'cauldron bubble.' Don't you, Tommy?" she purred.

"Miss Morrison, while I enjoy a good day dream myself, one of my favorites involves a large, blue bunny wearing pink socks with bells, I'd appreciate it if you'd daydream in someone else's class, like Professor Slughorn. Now, Mr. Riddle, would you please read the text for today?" Dumbledore said pleasantly, effectively ending Gwen's fantasy.

"Damn and it was just getting good," she grumbled to herself.

Tom read the oh-so-interesting lesson on transforming rats into horses, a la Cinderella. Gwen struggled to pay attention, though it helped that Tom was the one reading, and not some idiot who didn't know what the tenth's place after a decimal was. Gwen shook her head at the memory of little Miss Allison Smart and her annoyingly naïve and stupid questions about the most obvious and logical of things, like what the tenths place after a decimal was. Gwen thought her name should have been Allison Dumbass.

Finally, after an unusually excruciatingly long period, the bell rang to dismiss class. Students shuffled out the door in clumps, but Tom stayed behind a few seconds more, just long enough to slide a piece of white paper into Gwen's bag when no one was looking. She just so happened to look up the moment his hand retracted from her bag, and she raised one eyebrow quizzically. He smiled enigmatically and walked out of the room without a word.

Gwen quickly pulled out the letter, and unfolded it with eager fingers. She and Tom no longer got to see each other every night because Professor Slughorn had canceled their tutoring sessions once Tom returned from the hospital. The portly Potions master didn't want his precious, prized student to extend himself too much, and Gwen had a sneaking suspicion that Slughorn blamed her in some way for Tom's stay in St. Mungos.

_**Gwen,**_

_**Please meet me in the library at midnight. I have to patrol the halls tonight, and I'd like to see you again. We haven't talked in ages.**_

**_Yours truly (and I mean yours),_**

_**Tom.**_

"What a cornball," Gwen thought to herself with a wry smile, though her heart did flutter a bit at that salutation.

She spent the rest of the day in a constant state of anticipation. She had a feeling Tom wanted to do more than just talk because he was not one to idly chat. He must have a reason for wanting to see her tonight. The question was: what did he want? Gwen doubted he wanted to grab her and start madly snogging, because that too, was not in his nature. He still had problems with physical contact; he'd tense up when she'd purposely brush her hand next to his as they passed in the hallway.

What surprised Gwen even more was the fact that it was _she_ that wanted more physical contact, because with all her issues stemming back from that incident in Muggle high school and all, one would think she'd be the shy one of the relationship. Not that she wanted to start having his babies or anything, but a quick hug here and there or a kiss or two, wouldn't hurt any.

Finally, after a horrendously long day of classes, Gwen was free to wait another long set of hours as midnight slowly crept closer, like a snail on an iced lake. Dinner, seemed to drag by especially slowly, and Gwen's friends were particularly nosy and annoying, at least, she thought they were more than normal.

"Gwen, what are you doing for the summer?" Shalini asked in her usually chipper voice.

"Nothing," Gwen answered shortly.

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing? Aren't you going back to America or something?" Lola asked in her usual blunt way.

"Nothing means I don't know what's going to happen to me. Do you remember that I don't have anyone to stay with? Or did you just conveniently forget that?" Gwen snapped hatefully.

There was a stunned silence at the table as all the girls stared down at their plates ashamedly. They were just trying to be friendly, and it had backfired in their faces. Lola's eyes were filling up with tears as she turned to Gwen to apologize.

"I'm sorry Gwen. I didn't know. I-I thought that maybe Professor Dumbledore or someone had made arrangements for you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," she mumbled.

Gwen sighed, and shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry for biting your head off. I should be the one apologizing, not you," Gwen said sincerely as she handed Lola a tissue from her bag.

Lola took it and blew her nose loudly, sounding like a swan with a head cold, which is a very, peculiar, for lack of a better word, sound to hear.

"So, um, if you don't have anywhere to go, what will you do?" Emma asked hesitantly.

"Well, in the Wizarding world, you come of age at seventeen, right? Well, I turned seventeen in October, so I guess I could get a job or something," Gwen said indifferently.

She had thought about getting a job in Hogsmeade that would allow her to have the weekends off so that she could go into London to visit Tom. Whatever she did, she knew he would play a central role. Who knows? Maybe she could go live in the orphanage he lived in, though she really hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. From what he'd told her and from what she knew from Harry, that place was not the most exciting and nurturing of places to live.

"Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, you're still young and you need to have some fun! You could take turns living with us!" Shalini said excitedly.

"Oh, I like that idea! You could spend like two weeks with each of us!" Emma agreed.

"Really? Are your sure your parents would be ok with that?" Gwen asked in amazement.

"I'll write them tonight and ask. I'm sure they'd love to have you. I've told them a lot about you," Emma explained reasonably.

"Oh? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Gwen laughed.

"It's a good thing, trust me," Emma replied sincerely.

"Wow, it's just a regular love fest in here, isn't it?" Gwen joked.

They all laughed heartily, and spent the rest of the night in high spirited conversation. Finally, when all the others were asleep, Gwen quietly crept to the portrait hole, Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak firmly in hand. With one last, piercing gaze around the common room to make sure that she wasn't being spied on, Gwen pulled on the cloak with a flourish, and glided silently out the door. She crept down the winding staircase slowly, making sure to be on the lookout for teachers and the other prefects that were patrolling the hallways. She didn't light her wand because the spring moon was bright enough to illuminate her steps until she could reach the torch-lit path to the library. A few steps more, and she saw Tom pacing in front of the locked library doors.

She stopped, ducked behind a pillar to pull off her Invisibility Cloak and shoved it along with the Marauder's Map into her robes. Gwen then peered around the corner of the pillar, and to her dismay she saw Tom talking with none other than Isolde Christensen. They were arguing about something, though Gwen could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation. It sounded like Isolde wanted Tom to go with her on patrol, but he was insisting that she do it alone.

"I don't know what your problem is! Why won't you just come with me! Ever since you started hanging around that Morrison girl, you've been acting funny. You won't have any more meetings, and you act cagey when anyone brings up our goals. I want to know what's going on, and I deserve to know the truth Tom!" Isolde hissed angrily.

A wave of cold fury passed over Tom's face, and he roughly grabbed Isolde by the shoulders and slammed her into the library door, making sure that the door handle rammed violently into her spine. Isolde tried to cry out in pain, but Tom covered her mouth with his hand, roughly twisting her head to face him in the process.

"What I do is none of your business," he whispered maliciously through gritted teeth. "I do no have to tell you _anything_, and I will not tolerate any more remarks from you or anyone else about Miss Morrison. I trust her with my life, because without her I would not be here now. I am trying to bring her to our side, because whether you imbeciles realize it or not, she is far more powerful than any of you could ever dream of being, and I would rather have her on my side than all of you combined. I do not care if she is a Gryffindor, at least I will not have to doubt her loyalty or her courage in a battle. I sadly cannot say the same for you, Miss Christensen. Now leave me, for I have my duties to attend to, and so do you."

He released her roughly, and she staggered down the hall past the place where Gwen was hiding. Gwen watched as the Slytherin girl tottered away, sniffling loudly like a drunken horse. When her dark head disappeared from view, Gwen cautiously stepped from her hiding place and advanced slowly towards Tom. He was slumped against the library door, with his head in his hands. At the familiar sound of her steps, he glanced up.

"You're late," he said hoarsely.

"Only by five minutes, and that's because I had to avoid Evil Minion," she replied calmly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Life has been…complicated, to say the least, since I returned. I…I've done things in the past that I now regret, but I'm too far in to turn back now," he mumbled tiredly.

"Can I do anything to help?" Gwen asked concernedly.

"No, I'm afraid I must do this alone. Now, come on, let me show you what I was going to before Isolde nearly ruined everything."

He motioned for Gwen to follow him, and he led her down numerous passages and a few flights of stairs until they reached a remote area of the castle. He pulled open the old, rather weather-beaten door, and lit the tip of his wand. Gwen also lit her wand, and she followed him inside. The room they entered was a small, dusty, and moth-eaten storage closet. It would have been a boring, rather dirty and plain little windowless hole in the wall, had it not been for the magnificent full-length mirror in the middle of the room.

"The Mirror or Erised," Gwen breathed in awe.

She had heard of the mythical object, but had never had the opportunity to see it with her own two eyes. The mirror had been destroyed during the war with Voldemort, though no one knew how or by whom. Gwen reached forward, and slowly ran her fingers over the intricate frame holding the mirror.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Tom asked quietly from where he was standing behind her.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"When I first discovered it, I thought it was prophetic. I saw myself sitting on a large throne, attended by Muggles dressed in filthy rags. I was all powerful, and everyone trembled at my name. Then, through some research, I learned that the Mirror of Erised doesn't show us the future, but simply, our deepest, and in my case, darkest desires. I wanted people to feel the pain I have felt, to cower before me. I visited this place every night, and my desire for revenge would grow, and my plans became more concrete. But then something strange happened around October. What I saw in the mirror wasn't so clear anymore. Sometimes, I would see things…things I didn't want to see."

He took a deep breath, and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Do you know what I saw sometimes? What I see now?"

Gwen said nothing, but simply shook her head to indicate 'no.'

"I saw… you…us…together. At first I thought it was a mistake, that my eyes were deceiving me. But as soon as the vision came, it went, and was replaced by my evil desires. However, the more I was around you, the stronger the visions were, and the longer they lasted. I thought maybe it was just a strong case of lust, but that wasn't true. Gwen, I saw us, and we were happy. And that frightened me. It still does. I don't know how to handle this…this newfound…joy. It is not in my nature to love. I struggle every day with the idea that this is all a dream, and I will wake up one day, and you will have never existed. And that terrifies me more than anything. I don't want to go back to that place, to those feelings of hatred that nearly devoured my soul."

Gwen remained silent in a stunned silence. What could she possible say in reply to that? "Oh, hey, Tom, that's swell!" didn't seem quite effective enough.

"Come, we must return you to Gryffindor tower. I've kept you up to long," Tom said quietly as he turned to leave.

"Tom, do you know what I see in the Mirror?" she asked softly.

He turned around and looked at her tiredly, but quizically.

"I see the same thing you do."


	31. Dissention In The Ranks

Chapter Thirty One

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Dissection in the Ranks**

**_He who knows how to flatter also knows how to slander._****_  
_**_-Napoleon Bonaparte_

"We must stop her at all costs! She will be his and our demise! I'm tired of her corrupting our leader to her side! We must free Tom from that Gryffindor's poisonous grasp!" Isolde hissed violently as she slammed a well manicured fist on the table in the Room of Requirements.

She was surrounded by the other Death Eaters, and they were all dressed in black, hooded robes. The Slytherin banner had be erected behind Tom's unoccupied throne. Black candles cast an eerie glow about the room, causing the young Dark Wizards' shadows to dance grotesquely across the stone walls.

"That throne has been empty for far too long! Our resolve grows cold with the absence of the Dark Lord! We must restore him to his rightful place as the head of Slytherin, and eventually, the world!" she railed.

"And how, prey tell, are we to extract him from 'her' grasp? You know she can out duel us all, and then she has that blasted sword to defend herself with. Do you really think any of us stand a chance against her?" Abraxas Malfoy asked defiantly.

"I have beaten her before, remember? She is NOTHING!" Isolde bellowed.

"How do we know this is not just a jealous plot you've cooked up because you lust after the Dark Lord and cannot stand to see another female closer to him than yourself?" Abraxas retorted cruelly. "And about you supposedly 'beating' her, please, spare us. You caught her off guard, and nothing more. Please don't think that any of us in this room actually think your skills rival Miss Morrison's, because I assure you, they do not."

A few cruel snickers echoed through the room.

"Have you all gone mad? Am I hearing you correctly when you say that a GRYFFINDOR is greater than the entire noble house of SLYTHERIN??! Think of what you are saying! You are spitting on Salazar's grave, and the graves of all your ancestors. Have you forgotten what you stand for, what we stand for, what this house stands for?! You cannot honestly tell me that you are all fine with what is happening!" she screeched like a banshee.

"The Dark Lord said that he was trying to bring her to our side, did he not? If he thinks of her as such a valuable acquisition, then who are we to argue? I may not like the fact that she is Gryffindor's heir, but if the Dark Lord can bring her to our way of thinking, who will stand against us? You forget, Isolde, that Gryffindor and Slytherin were best friends. If the Dark Lord can unit the two strongest houses in Hogwarts, who will dare stand in our way? Hufflepuff?" Abraxas argued.

"Yes, but—" Isolde stuttered.

"Yes, but what? Isolde, this is a waste of time and you know it. You're nothing more than a _silly_, jealous _little_ _girl_ who wants revenge. Please, leave the rest of us out of your _petty_ tiff. It saddens me that you lack so much faith in the Dark Lord, and yet you put so much faith in the person that is supposedly bringing all of our work to ruin. Do you really think that Miss Morrison is powerful enough to deceive and manipulate the Dark Lord? Because if you do, then _you_ are the one disgracing this house, not us."

The rest of the Death Eaters nodded in agreement with what Abraxas had said. One by one, they began to move towards the door to leave, but Isolde, in one last desperate attempt to make her point, sent a stunning spell at the people nearest the door. With a loud crash, those unfortunate individuals flew back from the door, and landed with a dull thump on the people behind them.

"I warn you now, if you walk out of this room, I will have you all punished for your treachery once I have saved the Dark Lord. You ask if he has been manipulated, and I say he has. I have proof, and if you will listen to me, you will see the error of your ways,' Isolde proclaimed loudly.

She held up a think, black leather bound book.

"What I have here, in my hand, is undeniable proof that our beloved leader has been hoodwinked. He has been weakened and I have proof, proof from the Dark Lord himself, in his own words. I hold in my hands, my fellow Death Eaters, the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle himself!"

Slowly, one by one, the Death Eaters turned around to stare unbelievingly at the dark headed girl. She was either stupid, the more likely choice, or suicidal, to take something so personal from the Dark Lord.

"Let me read for you, from the mind of the Dark Lord himself, so that you may finally understand the gravy of this situation," she commanded.

"You mean the _gravity_, of the situation," Abraxas drawled carelessly.

Isolde just glared at him, and turned to a page, and began to read.

"Today is October 9th. It should be an ordinary day, a day like every other, one in which I put on my mask of the perfect student. But today is going to be different. I can feel it, in my innermost being. And I am afraid I know why today is so…unusual. It is Miss Morrison's birthday. Why that matters, I do not know. But it was what she said about growing older, to Dumbledore, none the less, that interests me. She thinks of birthdays as not of a day of celebration and to hoard gifts, like one would think she would be so inclined, but she thinks of them as one more reminder that she is closer to death. How odd, that she would share my belief! Can this mean that there is more to her than meets the eye? I will have to keep a closer watch on her. She intrigues me greatly."

A silence passed after Isolde read that passage.

"So? She is afraid of death too. Good for her, one more reason why she might join the Dark Lord. That certainly is not evidence enough to prove that she's got him cowering at her feet," Abraxas argued.

"You want proof? I'll give you proof!"

Isolde flipped towards the end of the diary.

"Today is New Year's Day. I haven't seen Gwen in days. I know I should not sulk over her lackluster reaction to me admitting I consider her a friend, but I'm still angry. Why can't she see that I'm struggling each and everyday to make myself more to her liking? Though the inner battles rage, though I try and resist, I am slowly drowning in my desire…my…need…for her. Salazar help me! I am a doomed man."

The room went deadly silent. No one dared speak a word, much less breathe too loud. Was this some sort of sick joke Tom was playing on them? Was he toying with them by writing such…desperate things in his journal?

Abraxas' loud laugher jolted everyone from their dazed state. The blonde young man was practically writhing on the ground in uncontrollable, malicious laughter.

"S-surly you d-don't t-think that is t-true?!" he guffawed.

Isolde said nothing, but only stared incredulously at her peer. Was he insane? Why was he laughing so?

"You make the Dark Lord sound like a love sick puppy! Wait, don't tell me! The next entry is a big heart with "Tom + Gwen forever' written in it!" Abraxas cackled. "Really, Isolde, you are too much!"

"Abraxas, I don't know how many times I have to tell you! This is REAL! He is obsesses with her! I have shown you proof, proof from the Dark Lord's mind, and you still don't believe me! What more do you want?" she screamed in frustration as she threw the diary at Abraxas.

The black book smacked Malfoy hard in the face, leaving a nice little series of paper cuts across his pale face.

"Arrgh! Look what you've done!" he hissed angrily.

"You deserve it! You don't believe me!" she screamed back.

"Why should I? How do you know that is not a plant, not a fake diary that the Dark Lord has made to put people who snoop through his things without permission off his trail? I don't believe anything you've said because it's impossible for me to believe anything you've said. The Dark Lord does NOT love. He is incapable of it. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a _fool_," Abraxas spat.

"Actually, Isolde is correct. I believe that there is something going on between them," a female voice said from the back of the room.

A dark cloaked figure made its way through the crowd towards the front. Isolde squinted at the individual, trying to see who was behind the shroud.

"Who are you?" she asked hatefully.

"A friend," the female figure replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh? I don't remember you at any of the other meetings, 'friend.' Reveal yourself! How do we know you aren't a spy?" Isolde demanded.

Slowly and deliberately, the stranger in the midst of the Death Eaters lowered her hood to reveal a head of dark curly hair, and a gold and scarlet tie. Loud gasps echoed throughout the room at the sight of the revealed stranger.

"You?" Isolde gasped.

"I know it must be a bit of a shock, but let me assure you, I have contacts and information that you can't afford to turn down," the mystery person revealed.

"Tell me everything!" Isolde demanded.

* * *

Tom rifled through his trunk like a squirrel trying to burry an acorn. He threw out books, papers, socks, underwear (forest green boxer briefs, for inquiring minds), and many various and sundry things. He frantically looked under his bed, in the bathroom and everywhere he could possibly think of, but no where could he find his diary. He had foolishly decided against putting any type of protective spell on it, and instead relied on his underlings' fear of him to keep them at bay. Now that his plans for wiping out half the world were no longer in effect, he had gotten lazy and sloppy. His paranoia had diminished to the point that he left his trunk unlocked. And now his diary was gone, and Tom was in full panic mode. 

With a wave of his hand, all his belongings flew back into place as he ran pell-mell out the door. His long legs pumped furiously as he ran up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower. He needed to use the Marauder's Map, and he needed it _now_. He flew past two first year Ravenclaws, knocking their massive piles of books to the ground with an earth shattering crash. Another wave of his hand, and the dropped items flew back into the arms of the amazed students.

As he neared the portrait door, much to his chagrin, several first year students were chatting around it. He really didn't want to have to explain himself to anyone, much less first year Gryffindors. He had hoped that he might be able to intercept Gwen herself, or at least one of her friends. He didn't exactly trust Emma, Shalini and certainly not that loudmouth Lola, but he knew that Gwen could handle them and force them to keep quiet should they ask too many questions as to the nature of his and Gwen's relationship.

"Move aside," he commanded the first year students.

The little girls stared at him in awe of his obvious masculine beauty and who he was. When none of them moved, he cleared his throat loudly and said, "MOVE!"

The little girls scurried away and down the stairs, but as they went they glanced behind them several times and giggled amongst themselves. The Fat Lady looked at Tom and smiled coquettishly.

"Come to see your girl again?" she asked slyly.

Tom said nothing, and just tried to see if someone was coming up the stairs that could let him in the portrait hole. He paced back and forth, muttering incoherently to himself.

"How could you be so stupid? Now someone has your most personal belonging, and you don't know who would steal something so precious to you! Fool!" he berated himself.

The portrait hole opened with a creak, and Gwen stepped out, a worried look on her face.

"Tom! What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously. "People will start talking if they see you here!"

"Gwen! I need the Marauder's Map right now!" he whispered furiously as he practically pounced upon her.

"What? Why? What's going on?" she asked fearfully.

"Someone has stolen my diary, and I need to find out who has it!"

"WHAT?!" Gwen bellowed in disbelief. "How did that happen? I thought you locked your trunk, and don't you have a couple of protective spells on that thing to keep nosy teachers and house elves at bay?"

Tom swallowed hard.

"No, no I put nothing on the diary as protection, ok?! I'm an idiot, I know, but now's not the time to get mad at me for my lack of foresight! I need that map!" he begged.

"Tom, I don't know what good it will do you because it only shows you who is where in the castle, not who has what," Gwen replied despondently.

"Just get it for me, ok? I don't have time to explain!" he pleaded.

"Ok! Ok! I'll go get it!" Gwen agreed as she sprinted back through the portrait hole.

As she raced up the stairs to the girl's dorm room, her heart beat at a fearful pace, and the bottom of her stomach seemed to drop out. How could he be so careless as to leave that diary lying around? He'd told her what it contained—his plans for the Death Eaters, the formula he'd tried to calculate to make an untraceable horcrux, and finally, his musings on…her. If that diary fell into the wrong hands, they were both in a world of hurt.

With flying fingers, Gwen ripped the Marauder's Map from her trunk and leap back down the stairs and out the portrait hole. As she flew past the common room, a hidden figure by the fireplace smiled maliciously.

"All is going to plan," the traitor thought gleefully.

* * *

I don't know if any of you (besides kavi) have noticed yet, but I've put a link up to my drawing of Gwen in my profile. Check it out and tell me what you think! 


	32. The Eve Of The Storm

Chapter Thirty Two

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**The Eve Of The Storm**

_**The good may prove to be a hidden form of evil. The evil may prove to be a new and not recognized form of the good.**_

_**-Nicholas Berdyaev**_

"Let me see if I understand what you are telling me, Mr. Riddle. You are saying that someone broke into your room and stole your diary?" Dumbledore asked gravely from where he was sitting behind his desk.

Gwen had insisted that they go see the Transfiguration master about the stolen diary, despite Tom's vehement protests against sharing his mistake with the assistant head master. Just because Tom was 'good' didn't mean that he suddenly loved everyone and wanted to make hugs the official currency of the Wizarding World. Gwen, however, insisted that they go to Dumbledore because whether Tom liked him or not, the older man was the world's greatest wizard, and if he couldn't figure out who stole the Diary of Doom, then no one could.

"Yes sir, that is what I am saying," Tom replied tightly.

"Well, this is a problem, but I don't understand why you have come to me, for I am not the head of Slytherin. Surely Professor Slughorn could help you in this matter?" Dumbledore questioned as he looked quizzically at Tom.

"I am afraid not, for you see…the book…my diary…contains..._highly important...personal_ information that I simply _cannot_ risk…being…exposed," Tom explained with a clearly aggravated tone to his voice.

Dumbledore looked at Tom critically, as though appraising the young man. It was easy enough for the wise old wizard to guess what kind of information the diary contained: Tom Riddle's evil plans for world domination. Dumbledore chuckled mentally. How typically cliché for a villain to leave his plans unattended and rely on his fearful persuasion to keep nosy onlookers away. Some things never change. The old man wondered why Tom hadn't destroyed that information, in light of his apparent change of plans.

Gwen cleared her throat delicately and fidgeted in her chair uncomfortably. She hated this waiting around; she wanted to find out who the diary thief was and hunt them down. A small smirk passed over her lips. Tom was right; she was a girl of constant action. She slid her eyes over to him, and smiled unwittingly. For some reason, she thought he was incredibly attractive when he clinched his jaw in anger. It made him seem…driven and passionate, traits that simultaneously annoyed and endeared him to her.

Dumbledore watched Gwen and Tom with interest. He knew they fancied each other; their intimate little kissing scene had been proof enough of that. The old man had always known that love was the strongest force on earth, and the relationship between the two young people sitting in front of him proved his theory correct. Why else would Gwen have accompanied Tom to talk with him? Dumbledore knew that Tom, even now, did not care for him, and that was fine. She had probably convinced the young man to come forward, though the Transfiguration master doubted that had been an easy task.

"Professor, I have brought with me what's called the Marauder's Map. I've told you about it before, remember?" Gwen said quietly as she pushed the rumpled parchment across the wooden desk.

"Yes, I remember you mentioning it briefly. Does it not show the position of everyone in the school, at the given moment?" Dumbledore asked as he picked up the map to examine it.

"Yes, it does. Tom thinks that it might help us find who stole his diary," Gwen explained.

Tom shot her a stern look for mentioning his idea, but Gwen just shrugged. In this tense situation, full disclosure was their only option.

"A very prudent suggestion, Mr. Riddle. Well, we know that the thief is more than likely from you House, for it would be easier for the thief to gain access to your dormitory if they were in your own House. Do you know anyone who would want to try to blackmail you with this information contained in your diary?" Dumbledore inquired gravely.

"I…I am not certain, Professor," Tom replied hesitantly. "There are probably several people in Slytherin who would like to see me fall from grace, so to speak."

"My money is on Isolde Christensen," Gwen piped up.

Dumbledore gave her a disapproving look, but a small, defeated sigh from Tom garnered the attention of both the Transfiguration master and the Gryffindor heir.

"Oh, how could I be so stupid?" Tom bemoaned, slowly hanging his head in his hands.

"What is it, Tom?" Gwen asked sharply.

"You…you're right! Isolde is the only one capable of stealing my diary. You see; when I first formed what you call the 'Death Eaters', I put Isolde in charge of the house elves. She was to coerce them into being spies…she could have easily gotten one of them to steal my diary, and no one would suspect a thing."

Gwen stared at him, a look of 'you're the biggest idiot I've ever seen' clearly written all over her face. Dumbledore slumped back into his chair, the color slowly draining from his face. If what Tom said was true, then as assistant headmaster, the old man was obligated to suspend Miss Christensen until a suspension committee could be convened. He tiredly reached over to the chord that summoned Dinky. Arriving in the familiar pop of smoke, the small house elf bowed cordially to the Transfiguration master.

"Aieee!" she squealed, upon turning around to see Tom Riddle sitting a mere three feet away.

The tall young man merely raised an eyebrow at the odd house elf, though secretly he was a bit hurt and flattered at the same time that Dinky was so obviously afraid of him. However, he knew that intimidating a House Elf was about as easy as slicing butter, so his ego boost didn't last long.

"Dinky, I'm afraid that we have some very serious questions that we need you to answer. Do you think you can do that for us?" Dumbledore inquired gravely.

"Y-yes sir," she stuttered as she eyed Tom nervously, though she did seem to relax a bit when Gwen smiled at her.

"Mr. Riddle has reported that a very personal belonging of his has been stolen, and he has reason to believe that one of the Slytherin elves has taken his diary, on the orders of another student. Do you know anything about this?"

Dinky's large, honey brown eyes blinked slowly, and she tugged at her hair nervously. Clearly she knew something, and she was debating what to say. House Elves were notoriously loyal, not only to their masters, but to each other as well.

"Dinky, please. We need your help," Gwen implored gently.

The little creature faltered a little, but her fierce devotion to the girl won over her friendship with the other elves.

"Dinky…has heard things….the Slytherin elves talking. They say that…that _someone_"— she slid her large eyes over at Tom "—had put a…a sort of slave master over them. They… would never tell Dinky who, but one day Dinky saw that hateful girl, Isolde Christensen talking to Slinky, the head of the Slytherin elves. She cast some sort of spell on Slinky, and then he disappeared. He came back later, and gave a book to her. Dinky is sorry, she saw nothing more."

"No, no Dinky that was great. Thank you for your help," Gwen said gently.

The little House Elf smiled brightly at the complement from her favorite student, but quickly stopped smiling when she looked at Tom again.

"Don't be scared of him, Dinky. He won't hurt you. I won't let him," Gwen explained.

"T-thank you, Miss Morrison…" Dinky said hesitantly.

"No problem."

"Is that all you need from Dinky?" the house elf asked brightly.

"Yes Dinky, that is all. Thank you for your help," Dumbledore replied.

The house elf smiled and nodded, and disappeared with her customary loud crack. The old man sat back in his chair, rubbing his head in thought. After a while, he looked up to the students in front of him.

"I must speak to Headmaster Dippet about this matter. If I need your testimonies, I shall summon you."

He stood up and so did Tom and Gwen, taking this as their cue to leave.

"Don't forget your Maurader's Map, Miss Morrison. It is quite the handy tool, I must say. Though there is one secret passage that isn't on here."

Dumbledore tapped the paper twice with his wand, and then handed it to her.

"Thank you, Professor," she said smiling, though it was a strained and worried smile that Dumbledore reflected in his own smile.

Tom and Gwen walked out the Transfiguration classroom and into the hall, where Tom slumped up against the stone wall, hands on his face in frustration and pain.

"I'm so stupid, so stupid," he muttered over and over to himself.

Gwen just stood silently next to him, not knowing quite what to say or do. After a while, she simply patted him affectionately on the arm. He looked up at her, tired and drawn, with a hint of confusion.

"Why don't you go for a walk or something? Maybe the fresh air would help clear your mind," Gwen suggested.

"What; are you my mother now?" he asked sarcastically.

"Um, no, because that would be weird, and I don't like children, so I really don't think—" she rambled before he cut her off.

"It was just an expression, Gwen."

"I know, but it was my lame attempt at humor. But anyway, you should go do something constructive otherwise, you'll go crazy, even more than you already are, and that could be bad."

"And what, prey tell, are _you_ going to do, while I'm off doing something _constructive_?" he asked suspiciously, eyeing her with a knowing look. "You aren't going to attack Isolde, are you?"

Gwen blinked innocently.

"Who? Me? Why would I do that?"

Tom frowned at her, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Just don't get caught, is all I have to say."

"So I have your approval, then, to go postal on her ass?" Gwen asked excitedly.

"Postal?"

"Oh, um, long story. So…yeah. I'll see you later, then?" she inquired with an all too large smile.

Just then, Emma and Lola rounded the corner. They stopped short when they saw Gwen and Tom. Emma slid her eyes over to Lola, who raised her eyebrows inquisitively. Tom, who was facing their direction, became suddenly pale, or at least paler than usual. Gwen, automatically sensing his tenseness, turned around slowly, silently thankful that they were just talking, rather than being in a more, shall we say, _compromising_ position. When she saw who was behind her, she cursed inwardly, but outwardly, she put on a bright smile and walked to her friends, arms stretched out to greet them in a hug.

"Hi guys!" she said brightly.

"Hullo, Gwen. What are you doing here?" Emma replied pleasantly, her eyes dancing darkly as she looked at Tom, or at least where he'd been standing.

"I see your lover's run off. Did we come at a bad time?" Lola teased.

"I, uh, I just happened to run into Tom as he was coming out of Professor Dumbledore's office. Don't know what they were doing, but I bet Tommy boy was trying to brown nose his way to the top grade in the class, even though he knows it belongs to me. Silly boy," Gwen lied.

"Uh huh," Lola replied, unconvinced. "But that doesn't explain why you're here, when you were supposed to meet us in the library over an hour ago so that we could make plans for the Hogsmead trip tomorrow. You know it's the last one of the semester. Where were you? And don't lie!"

"My dear Lola, I am shocked that you would think I would do such a thing! Shocked!"

"And I'm the Queen of England."

* * *

As Emma, Lola, Shalini, Abigail, and Samantha chatted in the carriage that was taking them to Hogsmeade, the subject turned to the latest and greatest gossip: Isolde Christensen had been suspended for stealing.

"Can you imagine? What would posses her to do such a thing? I can't believe that she would do such a thing!" Abigail said with wide eyes.

"She's a Slytherin, what do you expect?" Samantha countered.

"That sounds like something Gwen would say. Speaking of which, where is she?" Shalini asked curiously. "I thought she was coming."

"She's probably too busy sticking her tongue down Tom Riddle's throat," Lola snickered.

"You really don't think their _together_, do you? I mean, it would be the world's strangest couple…like ever. Don't they hate each other?" Shalini inquired with a confused look.

"Oh, you know, hate and love are a fine line, and both involve lots of _passion_, if you know what I mean," Lola giggled suggestively.

"Ew! Lola! No! I don't want to think about them, doing…_that_!" Samantha cried in disgust. "Besides, I think that you're just making all this stuff up. Has anyone actually seen them do anything that would indicate a relationship beyond that of schoolmates? Anyone?"

"Actually, I think Lola may be on to something, though I doubt it's quite as _graphic_ as she would have you believe. I have noticed a slight change in both of them. He's not quite so intense, and I've even heard him slip up and use a contraction or two. He usually _never_ does that, because he's always so formal. And she's a bit more affectionate and not quite so angry. Perhaps they've bonded more than they want to let on. After all, they do share somewhat similar backgrounds, what with them being orphans and all," Emma stated matter-of-factly.

The girls nodded, considering this the best explanation, though Lola did make a few more giggling noises at the thought of Tom and Gwen passionately and kissing sloppily. The carriage rolled to a stop, and all the girls disembarked, each eager to do some last minute shopping and other things before the school year ended. Meanwhile, Gwen was again making her way through the underground passage, with Tom trailing slowly behind her.

"I have a bad feeling about this. I think we should go back," he pleaded.

"Why are you so scared? Isolde is suspended, and your diary has been returned. You erased everything, right?"

"Yes."

"So there's nothing to worry about!"

"But what if she read it?"

"She probably did. But who's going to believe her that you wrote about taking over the world when she's already a thief and a liar? You're the one with the perfect record, so more than likely people will believe you. And if I have to pull out my clout as heiress of Gryffindor, then I will. Speaking of which, why don't you publicize _your_ heritage? I mean, it is something to be proud of, I suppose."

"I…I just don't want people to know that my mother died penniless and my father is a Muggle. It's embarrassing. I'd rather people just think I'm an orphan."

"It's the truth. If people can't accept that, then that's their problem, not yours. You should be proud of who you are and where you've come from, Muggle father or not."

He sighed.

"Not everyone is as confident as you are, Gwen."

She stopped, and turned around. They were about a foot from the stairs that lead to the cellar of the candy shop.

"Why are you stopping?" he inquired.

"No-no reason…it's just that…"

"What?"

"Never mind. Come on, let's go."

They made their way out of the cellar and into the store with ease. It was then that they noticed that something was wrong. The store was empty, and no one was outside, walking in the street. In fact, the entire village seemed quiet. Too quiet.

"What happened?" Gwen whispered to Tom, who was peering out the window. "What do you see?"

"Nothing," he whispered back.

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

BOOM!

A violent blast of light and an earth shattering rumble echoed from the center of the village. The blast vaporized the windows and destroying a large hole in the wall. Tom hurtled on top of Gwen before any of the shrapnel could hit her, but the force of the blast sent the two of them smashing into a large display case of lemon drops. When the dust settled, Tom hauled himself to his feet, covered in a layer of white powdered sugar. He coughed and hacked, and then, another bright light issued from the same place. Suddenly, in the space that had been strangely empty only moments ago, were hundreds, if not thousands of cloaked figures. Tom shielded his eyes to get a better look at the mass of people. He gasped when he realized who they were.

"This can't be what I think it is," he whispered.

"Au contraire, Mr. Riddle, this is exactly, what you think it is: an invasion," bellowed a deep voice.

A tall, black cloaked wizard made his way to the front of the group, who parted like the Red Sea in order for him to reach the front.

"We meet at last, after all I've heard about you. I must say that I'm intrigued to finally meet the young man who thinks he can do a better job than I have at cleansing the world from Muggle filth and mudblood," the figure said.

"How do you know who I am?" Tom yelled, trying to sound brave.

"Oh, let's just say I have my contacts. Isn't that right, my dear?" the man cackled.

A smaller, similarly clad person stepped to the front, but whoever it was had their head bowed, to keep Tom from seeing who they were. Then, with slow, deliberate hands, the smaller person removed their hood, causing Tom to step backwards in shock.

"Hello, Tom. Where's Gwen?" Emma Lyons asked.

* * *

I'm soooo sorry this is so late! I've been so busy! I'll try and have another chapter by next week! 


	33. Betrayal

Chapter Thirty Three

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**Betrayal**

**_Betrayal is the worst._**_  
-_**_Lynn Redgrave_**

"_Emma_?!" Tom gasped incredulously. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

She laughed in a slightly insane, entirely too happy sort of way. Tom was utterly confused; the girl standing in front of him no longer resembled the quiet, genial, and intelligent girl he knew her to be. What had happened to her to make her change her allegiance and her manner in such a dramatic way?

"You know, for being the smartest person in school, you certainly are dense at times, Tom. What does it look like I'm doing? Playing the piano?"

She laughed again, causing goosebumps to prickle all over his skin.

"Why must the evil ones laugh so strangely?" he muttered under his breath.

"But I thought you and Gwen were friends! You're the prefect for Gryffindor, so why are you joining sides with Grindelwald?" he retorted, this time loud enough for all to hear.

Instead of explaining herself, Emma simply took out her wand, and pointed it at Tom.

"We can end this now, by you joining us, or I'll just kill you and Gwen. Your choice as to who goes first if you ref—"

"_Stupefy_!"

Emma went reeling backwards, into a large clump of people. Gwen, now standing, wand drawn and eyes ablaze with fury, made her presence known for the first time. Not wasting any time, the Gryffindor heiress fired another stupefying curse at Grindewald, who simply waved it aside with a bored flick of his hand.

"I was wondering when the beast would awaken," he drawled carelessly. "You are nothing if not predictable, my dear."

"Shut up!" Gwen snapped as she took up a defensive position next to Tom, who had also drawn his wand.

"May I remind you that there is only two of you, and three thousand of us? Surely even an overaggressive fighter as yourself can figure out that the odds are _not_ in your favor, Miss Morrison," Grindewald smirked.

By this time Emma had been revived, and she had her wand out, ready to duel with Gwen. But before any of them could fire another curse, a loud cracking sound echoed through the group of people, and in a space which had been previously unoccupied stood Dumbledore and several Aurors. The old man stepped in front of Gwen.

"Hello, Albus; I was wondering when you'd show up. Come to save the day, have you?" Grindelwald asked sycophantically.

"I am here to escort my students to safety," the Transfiguration master said calmly, though his baby blue eyes were as cold as steel.

"How thoughtful of you," Grendelwald sneered. "And if I try to prevent you?"

"Then you will be dealt with accordingly," Dumbledore said in his most pleasantly deadly voice.

Suddenly one of the masked minions fired a killing curse in the direction of Dumbledore, but before it could hit him, the old man simply stepped out of the way. That was signal enough for the damn to break and all hell to break loose. Curses flew from all sides in a pandemonium of light. Red, green, gold, and a variety of other colored jets of light crisscrossed each other, blasting the various shops and edifices of the once tranquil village. The rag tag group of Aurors fearlessly fought their way through the impossibly large group of foes, allowing Dumbledore and Grindelwald plenty of room to duel. Tom and Gwen jumped into the fray; Gwen immediately sought out her traitorous, former friend Emma to enact retribution for the girl's betrayal, while Tom got lost in the mass of people.

"You! Of all my so-called _friends_, I trusted you the most!" Gwen screamed as she fired a particularly nasty stupefying curse at Emma. "I ought to kill you for what you've done!"

"Go right ahead; I dare you to. Or are you too scared?" the prefect taunted.

"Don't tempt me Emma, because I will do it, and I won't have _any_ remorse!"

The girls circled around each other; neither able to hit the other, no matter how well aimed their curses might have been. Gwen was quickly becoming frustrated that she wasn't able to strike Emma with even the simplest of offensive spells. Emma, sensing her adversaries growing impatience, giggled.

"Why, Gwen, you should have been able to defeat me long before now. What happened? Getting soft?"

Gwen said nothing, instead choosing to rip her sword out of its scabbard, and use it for its intended purpose. Unfortunately for her at that moment, Emma decided to bellow those fateful words:

"**_Avada Kedavra!"_**

* * *

"Wake up sleepy head," Gwen cooed softly to Tom.

She was sitting next tom him on his bead, shaking him gently.

"Five more minutes," he muttered as he snuggled deeper into his blanket.

"Sorry, no can do. You have to get up. We're being released today."

He glanced up at her sleepily, his dark eyes glossed over with drowsiness. She smiled back at him, brushing a strand of wayward hair off his face.

"Are you gonna get up, or am I gonna have to drag you out of there?" she threatened as she playfully tugged on his sheets.

"Fine, I'm up. What day is it?"

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly.

"Monday, May twentieth."

"We've been in the hospital for a week and a half? Again?"

She laughed knowingly. It seemed like just yesterday that they had been in these very same rooms; when in fact it had been many months. Time, when spent with Tom, generally seemed to fly by, although their experiences could never be described as boring.

"So much for a boring life," Gwen thought silently.

"You know, I'd never been in the hospital before I met you; and now this is the third time in one school year. I'm beginning to think that you might pose a bit of a danger to my health, Mr. Riddle."

He frowned slightly, sighing guiltily. The last thing he'd wanted was to wind up in St. Mungos again, but neither of them had any choice. They were too injured from the ravaging battle with Grindelwald almost two weeks ago. How they'd managed to survive, no one quite knew, but Tom did have his theories that he kept private. He knew how silly it would sound for him to say that the only reason he and Gwen survived, despite having several killing curses thrown in their general direction, was that their love for each other had protected them. Even when he tried to rationalize that statement, he couldn't. It was so incredibly clichéd and cheesy, that he was frankly embarrassed for even thinking of it in the first place.

"I'm so sorry Gwen. I had no idea everything would end like this. Believe me when I say I wish things had gone differently. It still is just so hard to believe that Emma was able to sneak past us all, completely undetected. Who would have thought she'd be a loyal follower of Grindelwald, just because she was jealous of you getting all the attention that she used to?"

"Yeah, me too. But let's not think about that, at least not now. I just want to get back to Hogwarts and get the gawking over with. Lord knows the school will be abuzz with so much gossip after the battle, especially since Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald."

It had been hard enough to keep all the nosy reporters away while they were in recovery; Aurors had been stationed outside the doors of both Tom and Gwen to prevent any unwanted guests from entering. The Wizarding World was literally on fire with the news of the two daring Hogwarts students who had miraculously helped defeat the most evil wizard of the day; and it was even more astounding to find out that Tom was the Slytherin prefect, and Gwen, was of course, famous for her ancestral heritage.

"Do you think the Ministry will offer him a position?" Tom asked as he stood up to go get dressed.

"The Ministry has been after him for years to work for them, but if he hasn't accepted a position by now, I serious doubt he will by now," she replied practically.

As much as she admired Dumbledore, she knew he wasn't fit to be the Minster of Magic. He was too logical and didn't give into peer pressure, or do things based on what was popular at the time. The Transfiguration master was a teacher, through and through, not a politician. It's a sad but true fact, that usually the incapable are usually in the highest of positions, especially in the political world.

"That's true…" Tom said thoughtfully. "Now, if you would please be so kind as to get out so that I can wash up and get dressed."

Gwen almost made a slightly risqué remark, but decided against it. Nodding in agreement, she left the room to give him some privacy. Thirty minutes later, they were on the Hogwarts Express, heading back for the castle.

"I never realized how large the train is until now, usually it' so claustrophobic with everyone climbing over each other to get a seat. Speaking of which, when have to leave in the summer, please promise me you won't make me sit with those horrid, giggly little girls like you did the last time. That was pure torture," Gwen bemoaned.

A far away, concerned look passed over Tom's face. He started absent mindedly picking at his robes, brushing away dirt that wasn't there, and picking even the smallest piece of lint off them.

"What's wrong?" she inquired, tilting her head to the side to better look at him.

"I…I was thinking about the summer. Where are you going to go?" he asked gruffly.

"Well, I was going to stay with Emma, but since she's dead and all that, I don't really know what I'll do. I suppose I could stay with Shalini or Lola, if their parents will allow me to do so…"

"Oh, I have no doubt that you will have no trouble finding someone who would give you room and board. You are Gryffindor's heiress, after all, and you were instrumental in helping Dumbledore kill Grindelwald. Everyone should be clamoring to have you, to increase their prestige and all of that."

"But you helped too, Tom. If you hadn't set up that deflecting spell when Emma tried to kill me, I wouldn't be here right now. And it was you and I, not just me, who were able to distract Grindelwald so that Dumbledore could kill him. I think you deserve just as much praise and recognition as I do. And let's not forget that you're Slytherin's heir, even though you don't want that fact made public. Surly someone would be willing to let you stay with them over the summer, instead of you having to go back to the orphanage."

She turned to face him, eying him for his response.

"That's just it…I know that most people in Slytherin were secret supporters of Grindelwald, and now that he'd dead and I'm partially responsible, I highly doubt I'd be welcome anymore. Besides…those people no longer interest me... I…I wouldn't belong…like always."

He glanced down at his robes, jaw locked and eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh _bull_! Don't give me that 'woe is me, nobody wants me' crap! Honestly, I'm sure _someone_, would let you stay with them. And even if you can't find anybody who'll take you in, it's only one more summer at the orphanage. Who says you have to stay there all day? I'll visit you and you can show me around London," she replied sharply.

"You…you'd come see me?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course I would! Why ask such a silly question?"

She rolled her eyes in amazement. Was he stupid? Why wouldn't she go see him? Being in London, among the Muggles would be a welcome relief to her, and well, being with Tom, that was a no-brainer as to how good it felt to be around him. It wasn't like her ever growing fame was something she enjoyed; on the contrary, all she wanted to do was escape the prying eyes and gossip. Her whole past, well, the past that had been created for her, was being dissected bit by bit in every rag tag gossip magazine and news paper. People she didn't even know were claiming to know her, or have information about her that was completely erroneous. It would be nice to go to a place where she wasn't known.

"Surly by now you _must_ know how I feel about you, Tom. Do you really think I'd want to be separated from the one person who completely understands me, the one person who I know I can trust and depend upon no matter what, for an entire summer?"

He refused to meet her gaze; the words she had spoken were still registering in his mind. Finally, he nodded his raven head gently, trying not to smile too largely. The idea of her coming to see him certainly made the drudgery of the dull and listless orphanage seem a bit more bearable.

"No, I suppose another summer in the orphanage won't be quite so bad after all."

* * *

I had to make some minor changes, that's why this was posted twice. Now bring me my reviews!


	34. You and I

Chapter Thirty Four

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**You and I**

**_Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies._****_  
_****_Aristotle_**

Summer finally came, and Gwen couldn't have been happier about it. When she and Tom had arrived back at Hogwarts after the fight with Grindelwald, the place had been a madhouse with reporters, and everyone wanted her picture and an interview. Even the Minster of Magic was there, and he wanted to give her an award for her 'splendiferous and fantastic display of Gryffindor courage, and proof that not all American's were blithering idiots.' But at the awards ceremony, she'd surprised everyone when, upon receiving the award, she said these words:

"I am truly grateful for all of the accolades and tokens bestowed upon me; however, I cannot truly say that I deserve them, for nothing 'great' is done alone. So, I'd like to give this award to someone who truly deserves it…my best friend and the prefect for Slytherin, Tom Riddle."

To say that the people were stunned would be like saying the Titanic sprung a small leak. The gossip mongers went into overdrive, trying to dip up anything they could about Tom. Fortunately, Dumbledore was able to 'influence' aka blackmail them into staying out of the young man's family records. The wise old man knew that Tom didn't want any of his sordid family history exposed, especially the part about his mother brainwashing his father into getting married.

So, on that bright and usually warm day in July, Gwen made her way through Muggle London to the orphanage to where Tom lived. She was dressed very unusually for herself in that she was wearing a dress, something that she loathed. But, she wanted to fit in and not draw attention to herself, and this was the only way to do it; it wouldn't be proper to run around in wizard robes and have a sword strapped to her back.

"Blasted skirt," she muttered as she tugged on the itchy, red polka dot fabric.

_Ding._

She rang the bell. Inside, she could hear voices, like little girls whispering and giggling.

"Is that her? Is that Tom's girlyfriend?"

Gwen grinned. It was funny that even in Muggle London, she was known as 'Tom Riddle's girlfriend.' It was no use hiding anything anymore, because everyone knew that they were an 'item'. At least with the Muggles, people weren't making magical pictures up of how their children would look or gossiping that she was already pregnant and that they were going to get married in the fall, before school started.

_HA! What do they know? I don't even like children, _she thought.

The door creaked open, revealing an older woman who looked like she had tried to dress up in her very best.

_Obviously this is Mrs. Cole, who's going to try and impress me, if my instincts are correct,_ Gwen mused.

"Why, hello, my dear, I am Mrs. Cole. Welcome, welcome! Won't you please come in?"

She ushered the young girl into the clean, but dreary sitting room. They sat down on warn, faded old chairs that squeaked when they sat down.

_He was right…everything here is just…gray…_Gwen thought.

"Won't you have some tea?"

The older woman motioned to a slightly chipped and faded china pot and cups.

"Oh, um ok."

The orphanage director poured the weak looking brown liquid into a cup, and handed it to Gwen.

"I'm sorry; we can't afford any sugar with the war."

"It's alright. I'll be fine," Gwen lied as she surreptitiously spit out the nasty fluid.

An awkward pause passed.

"So, are you, um, 'special' too?" Mrs. Cole asked hesitantly.

_Oh brother_, Gwen thought, trying to suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes. My family is one of the oldest 'special' families in the world. My ancestor was one of the one's who built our school."

"Oh."

Mrs. Cole fell silent, but it was obvious that she was intimidated by Gwen.

_She must be fabulously wealthy. What does she see in a poor orphan boy like Tom?_ Mrs. Cole wondered.

Fortunately, at that moment, Tom descended the stairs, dressed in grey pants and a white dress shirt, and black tie. He stopped short when he saw Gwen sitting there, all dress up in a capped sleeved red polka dot dress. She immediately stood up, and grinned from ear to ear when she saw him.

"Hey!"

She walked over quickly to him and swatted him on the arm.

"You were supposed to write!"

He continued to stare. She never wore dresses, so the image of her in one was a foreign, but undeniably pleasing one. Mrs. Cole looked at them curiously.

_What an odd pair,_ she thought. _Oh well, at least the boy likes girls. For a while there I was certain he didn't. And I must admit this is the most pleasant he's ever been._

"Well, are you ready?" Gwen asked expectantly.

"Um, yes, I am. I see you've met Mrs. Cole?" he answered hesitantly.

"Yes, we were just chatting over tea. You'll have to introduce me to the other children sometime. That is, the ones who aren't staring at me from behind the staircase."

Gwen pushed Tom aside and waved at the little girls who were hiding in the cubby hole behind the stairs. Their eyes grew wide as baseballs, and they nearly scampered away, buy Gwen squatted down to their level.

"And what are your names?" she asked kindly, eyes alive with mischief.

The little girls looked at each other, then back at Gwen.

"I'm Amy," the cute little blonde on the left said quietly, in a chipmunk voice.

"Hi Amy, I'm Gwen. Who's your friend?"

"I'm Helena," the ornery looking red head stated.

"It's nice to meet you, Amy and Helena."

The young woman stuck out her hand. Helena was the first to shake hands, followed by Amy.

"Are you really Tom's girlyfriend?" the red head inquired. "Because everybody says that the only reason Tom is nice now is because he got a girlyfriend and laid."

Her large, hazel eyes blinked curiously at the older girl. Gwen's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she had to use every ounce of her self control not to burst out into hysterical laughter at that moment. If she did, they really would think she was crazy.

"Yes, I am his 'girlyfriend', though I don't remember laying him, because if that did happen, I'd probably remember."

She slid her eyes over at Tom, who was currently wishing for a blue whale to pop out of the kitchen sink and swallow him. Gwen straightened up.

"I have to go now, ok?" she told the little girls.

"Will you come back and play with us?" Helena asked boldly.

"I...I don't know about that, I'd have to ask Mrs. Cole if it was alight with her, first."

"No, sorry girls, she can't come back. She has to go home after today, isn't that right?" Tom said through clenched teeth.

"That eager to get rid of me, after a month of no contact, are we?" she retorted, turning on him. "If the girls want to play, and Mrs. Cole doesn't mind, then I'll play. What's so wrong about that? Do you have a problem if I come back, Mrs. Cole?"

The older woman was taken aback by the forcefulness of the young lady's tone directed towards Tom. He was well known throughout the orphanage as a person not to be reckoned with or challenged. Yet here was someone who obviously wasn't intimidated in the least by him.

"Oh, yes, if you'd like to come back, that um, would be fine, dear," she answered weakly.

"Alrighty then. It's settled. Girls, I'll be back later, ok?" Gwen said brusquely.

They squealed in delight, and rushed off to the back yard. The Gryffindor heiress then turned to Tom, who had murder radiating from his eyes.

"We need to go. NOW," he commanded.

He grabbed her by the arm, and stomped out the door and down the steps, and onto the street. As soon as they were far enough away from the orphanage that they wouldn't be seen, he dropped her wrist and then forcefully seized her shoulders, roughly the squeezing them and drawing her face up to meet his.

"What on earth are you doing?" he hissed. "What was the meaning of that display in there?"

"What's the matter, scared of two five year old girls?" she taunted.

"That's not what I meant! Why were you trying to make me look like an idiot?" he demanded.

"I think you did that pretty well yourself. Have you been spreading lies about us? You know damn well that we have only kissed once, much less anything else. To be honest, I'm rather offended that people seem to think that I'm a slut puppy who's only reason for existence is to get you to no be such an uptight tool."

"You know I would never say anything of the sort! How could you think I would?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"What am I supposed to think when little girls ask questions like that?!"

"How am I supposed to know? One of the older girls must have said something, and they overheard. Honestly, I haven't said a word to anyone other that Mrs. Cole, whom I simply told that I had a visitor coming. She must have inferred the rest in order to dig out that rotten old china."

A staring contest between the two ensued, until finally, Gwen looked away.

"Ok, alight, I believe you. I guess I'm just a little ticked off that even here; I have to deal with people thinking things about us that aren't true. I just thought maybe we could escape all the gossip in Muggle London. I guess I was wrong."

"You and me both," he muttered as he released her shoulders. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Well, if I develop large, purple finger shaped bruises in a couple of hours, I guess we'll find out, huh?"

Not sure if she was joking or not, he said nothing.

"What? Oh, come on, Tom, you know it takes a lot more than just a simple shoulder grab to hurt me. So let's just move on and forget all of this. We have a tour of London to go on, right?"

He nodded in agreement, and they set off down the street and for several blocks after that, until they reached the subway. From there they traveled to central London, where they spent the rest of the day touring all of the famous tourist sights, and both thankful that no one knew or cared who they were. In the evening, as they sat on a boat on the Thames River, having dinner, a very appropriate song floated through the sound system.

_**Here we are**_

Several couples got up to go dance on the floor.

_**On earth together  
It's you and I  
God has made us fall in love  
It's true  
I've really found  
Someone like you**_

"You want to dance?" he asked uncertainly.

**_Will it say  
The love you feel for me  
Will it say  
That you will be by my side  
To see me through  
Until my life is through, oooh well,  
_**

"No. I don't dance."

_**In my mind  
We can conquer the world  
In love, you and I  
You and I, you and I...  
**_

"You did at the Christmas costume ball that Slughorn threw."

_**I am glad  
At least in my life  
I've found someone  
That may not be here forever  
To see me through**_

"That was different."

_**But I found my strength in you  
'Cause in my mind  
You will stay here always  
**_

"How so?"

_**In love, you and I  
You and I, you and I  
You and I, you and I**_

She just smiled enigmatically.

_**You and I  
**_

"It was just a special, one time thing."

**_In my mind _**

_**We can conquer the world**_

She looked over the water, at the glistening water.

_**In love, you and I  
You and I, you and I  
You and I...**_

"Besides, I don't want you to step on my feet again."

* * *

Ok folks, only one more chapter after this and I'm finished! Credit to Michael Buble for the song lyrics.


	35. The Once And Future Professor

Chapter Thirty Five

**Pitiful Creature of Darkness**

**The Once and Future Professor**

_**Explicit liber Regis quondam regisque futuri. The beginning.**_

_**-T.H. White**_

Five years later, one sultry summer night, Tom Riddle sat alone in his tiny flat, pouring over his latest application for the position for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. He had been turned down previously when he'd applied two years ago, and so he took a low paying job at the Ministry as a clerk in the Auror department. It allowed him to keep an eye on Gwen and her activities without drawing attention to the nature of their relationship. As she was about to become a certified Auror, the last thing she needed was an inquiry by Internal Affairs into her personal life. And now that Professor Slughorn had officially retired, Tom decided to reapply. He was older now, and wiser, and he felt like he'd learned a great deal from his time at the Ministry that would be beneficial to his prospective students.

He stretched his aching back muscles and glanced wearily at the clock. It read eleven o'clock at night. Suddenly, a slight breeze blew from the open window.

"Hello Tom."

Gwen stepped out from the shadows. She grinned, her plump ruby red lips curling back in a large, genuine smile.

"Gwen!" he exclaimed, quickly trying to smooth out his rumpled clothes and mussed up hair.

They hadn't seen each other in months because she'd been away on a mission as apart of her training to become an Auror. Since they'd last seen each other, she'd grown her hair out so that now it was a dark, wild, wavy mess that seemed to constantly cover her right eye.

"I see you've not been eating again. Tom, how many times do I have to tell you that it's not good for you to keep working without a break? You're not Superman, you know."

She immediately walked over to him, taking him by the shoulders to eye him over. He just shrugged a bit, not letting on that he liked it when she fussed over him like she always did.

"I'm just not hungry very much."

"Nonsense. You need to eat. And when was the last time you showered and shaved?"

She sniffed the air around him with disdain.

"Too long by the smell of you. Get your scrawny butt in there and clean up. I'll fix some tea and something to eat. And no arguments. Scoot!"

She pointed to the bathroom.

Smirking roguishly, he said, "Only if you come with me."

He raised one eyebrow in a suggestive challenge.

"Only when you get a ring on my finger, Mister Happy Pants," she retorted, swatting him on the back of the head. "Now get!"

"Alright, alright," he muttered as he moved towards the tiny bathroom.

Gwen shook her head in amusement, and then began to rummage around in his refrigerator, which could be best described as bare. The only thing inside it was a jug of water, a boiled egg that was beginning to smell, and a cracked light bulb.

"Bachelors," she grumbled.

With a wave of her wand, the refrigerator filled up with fresh fruits, vegetables, cheese, a pitcher of milk, and a cooked chicken. She pulled out some grapes cheese, and the chicken, and arranged two plates with plenty on one, and a decent sized portion on the other. The young Auror-in-training then set the kettle on to boil some hot water for Tom's tea, and poured herself a glass of milk.

"Done playing house maker, I presume?" he asked as he sauntered back into the room, drying his hair with a towel.

"Did you shave yet?" she asked, not even bothering to look up at him.

"Yes."

"Good."

The kettle whistled merrily, and she poured out the water into the pink china cup, and added a tea bag. Turning back around to the table, she gently set his tea in front of him.

"How's the application coming?"

"Fine. I think Dumbledore will be pleased with the progress I've made with my werewolf studies. And you? How's the life of a hearty adventurer?"

"As well as can be expected. We still have yet to track down the final three members of Grendelwald's forces. But I expect we'll find them in a few weeks, maybe two months at the most."

Tom munched on his grapes, nodding in agreement.

"Did you ever find out why Emma joined them? Surely it wasn't just to spite you and out of jealousy."

"From the records I've seen, she went to Grindelwald all on her own. It seems to be exactly that; she went out of spite for me. Sad really, if you think about it. I wasn't a threat, and never wanted to be one. Anyone with half a brain knows that I don't relish all the attention I've received over the years. I've had to work extra hard out in the field to prove myself. Everyone thinks I'm an Auror just because I'm a thrill seeking, attention nut."

Gwen sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Tom just chewed his chicken methodically, not saying anything. He knew that she really and truly despised people judging her based upon preconceived notions people had made based on often times erroneous media reports. Some of the older, stuffier Aurors didn't care for her "cowboy", "shoot first and ask questions later" style of interrogation. Still others were under the impression that she was a spoiled little brat who demanded attention, and that the only reason she'd been accepted as a trainee was due to higher-ups in the Ministry wanting the publicity of her in such a dangerous, but headline grabbing position. Still other people thought that her notoriety would make her a target for Dark Wizards, and a virtually ineffective agent. Unfortunately for all the haters, Gwen had proven herself to be a highly capable individual, and had single handedly brought in fifteen of the top fifty most wanted wizards in the world in less than three years.

"Too bad. She could have been someone," Tom lamented.

"Indeed."

She fell silent again, and he continued to eat under her watchful eye. When he finished, he washed up with a snap of his fingers.

"For all your nagging me about not eating, you haven't touched a bite of your food."

"I had a change of heart."

"Oh?"

She nodded absent mindedly.

"I see."

He looked at her concernedly. True to for, she started taping her fingers on the table, drumming them to a melody that only she knew, like she always did when she was nervous or thinking.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"What would you do if I died?"

His head nearly came off from the whiplash as he reeled back. He hadn't been expecting _that_ question.

"I…I don't know. That's not something I want to think about," he answered truthfully.

"But you know it's always a possibility with the work I do. You'll have to deal with it sometime."

She looked up at him expectantly. Inhaling sharply, he stood up and went over to shut the window. It was too cold, he'd decided. He came back to sit down at the table, but thought against it, so he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"Do you have an answer?" she pressed.

"What do you want me to say? That I'll want to die myself because I won't have a reason for living? That my world would end? Do you want a long, flowery, Shakespearian soliloquy?" he demanded.

"No, I never said that, and you know it. Stop being so melodramatic."

He sighed in agitation, and fiddled with something in his pocket. He hadn't wanted to ask her now; he'd planned it much differently each time he went over it in his head. Gathering up his courage, he turned back towards her and took the few, but seemingly endless steps over to the table where she was seated.

"I hadn't planned for things to go this way, when you sent me that owl two weeks ago saying you'd be coming. But the best laid plans often go to waste."

He took a deep breath.

"There are some things in life that are uncertain, ad some things that are. I don't know when you'll die, and I don't want to. That knowledge would make moments like this seem even more fleeting that they already are. And so know I'm going to do one thing that I know for certain will be a decision that I _must_ make, that I'm _compelled_ to make."

He pulled a little black box out of his pocket, and set it before her.

"Open it."

She paled and for a moment, he thought she might pass out. With shaking fingers, she opened the box; a sneaking suspicion knowing at her. Could this be what she thought it was?

"Oh…my…"

Nestled inside a crimson silk lining was a small, white gold ring with a large pear shaped sapphire with two small, round diamonds book-ending it.

"I guess I should get on one knee now."

Gingerly Tom lowered himself down to the ground, only to be fiercely tackled to the ground by a flying mass of robes and long hair, aka Gwen.

"So, I guess this means you accept?" he managed to ask before she smothered him in a hug.

* * *

On a lovely fall evening when the golden sun lit up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and purple, in a small stone church on a solitary hill in the middle of the Scottish highlands stood three people. Dumbledore stood at the alter, with Tom and Gwen before him. The two young people were dressed in their finest dress robes of the most brilliant colors representing their respective ancestral insignias.

"Shall we begin?" the Transfiguration master asked gently.

Tom nodded curtly, his eyes never leaving Gwen. She smiled humbly and nodded in agreement.

"Very well then. It is my great honor to preside over this ceremony, and I thank you for letting me join you in celebrating your celebration of love."

What he said after that, neither Gwen nor Tom could remember very well. They were too caught up in the feeling of each other's giddy happiness. And so a new chapter in their lives began; one of togetherness, friendship, and most importantly, love. The once cold and hate filled soul of Tom Riddle now knew what it had been missing all along, and it was whole.

* * *

In the dank dungeon of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, a small, thin boy with unruly black hair and bespectacled boy sat chattering excitedly with his friends. The tall red headed one with a long nose, was eagerly jabbering about the latest scores in the Qudditch World cup.

"Krum is amazing! He's the bloody king, I say!"

"Mr. Weasley, if you paid half the attention you do to Qudditch to my class, you would no doubt be Head Boy."

Ron paled so much that even his freckles seemed to turn white.

"Y-yes, P-p-professor R-r-riddle."

Tom strode to the front of the classroom, his black robes swirling behind him dramatically. Though a few distinguished silver lines that snaked their way through his raven hair, and he had a few laugh lines around his eyes, he still looked young and spry. Tapping lightly against the podium with his wand, he brought the class to order.

"Today class, as promised, we have a special guest. As much as I enjoy teaching you from the curriculum that the school mandates, I am fiercely aware that books are only one weapon that you must use in your arsenal of knowledge. So please join me in welcoming Ms. Gwen Morrison, Chief Auror."

The doors to the dungeon slammed open, and the students turned around slowly, with their mouths hanging open. A few awed whispers drifted quietly through the cavernous room as Gwen strode by, her head held high as she sauntered to the front. As she passed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she smiled surreptitiously at Harry. He looked exactly like he did when she knew him, except he was missing his scar, and his fame as the Boy-Who-Lived/Triumphed. After all, with no Voldemort, who was there for him to triumph against?

"Can you believe it? Gryffindor's only living heir is here, in our classroom!" Hermione whispered giddily. "I read somewhere that she once killed a basilisk that belonged to Salazar Slitherin. Apparently, he'd hid it in the school, and she found it."

"Ahem."

Gwen cleared her throat delicately.

"I assume the lot of you know how to duel?"

The fourth year students shook their heads to mean no.

"Excellent. Now, may I have a volunteer so that you may learn how to properly defend yourself?"

As she expected, no one raised their hand.

"Mr. Potter, why don't you come up here and join me?"

Harry's eyes grew as large as grapefruits, but he got to his feet and inched forward. As he moved closer to Gwen, a strange sense of recognition came over him. It was like…he knew her from somewhere. Of course he knew who she was from books and the news, but this feeling was different. He bowed to her, and she to him. She fired her first curse, and he defended. While not totally succeeding in blocking her, he did well for his first try. After Harry, Ron participated next, followed by Hermione, and so on and so forth until the entire class had gotten to try their hand against the world's foremost Dark Wizard catcher.

When the class was over, Gwen stayed behind to converse with her husband.

"I'd say they did pretty well for their first time," she said as she sat on his desk, watching him grade papers.

"I noticed you picked Harry right away."

"Well, it's not everyday that one meets their former Headmaster when he's a fourteen year old boy, now is it?"

"And even rarer to have said boy, who was once one's sworn enemy, in class."

"Touché."

A slight tap on the door made Gwen's head snap up.

"We have a visitor, it seems," Tom drawled.

She moved quickly off his desk and into the chair before it, so that she wouldn't look so suspiciously close to him.

"Enter."

Harry peeked his head in, and faltered a bit before stepping inside Tom's office.

"Hello, Ms. Morrison," he said softly.

"Hello Harry. You did quite well today. I think you might have the makings of a great Auror someday."

The boy gaped.

"You think so?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course. But you'll have to practice constantly, and keep up your grades. Do you think you can do that?"

Harry frowned. His grades were adequate, except for Potions. He hated that class, and Professor Snape.

"I...I think so," he said finally.

"Good. Now, did you want to ask Professor Riddle something?"

"Ah, um, actually, I came to find you Ms. Morrison."

"Oh?"

"Yes…ah…er…well, um, you see…I have this odd feeling…like we've met before somewhere. I…I know it's crazy sounding, because I know for sure that I haven't met you. But I feel like I have."

He blushed slightly, knowing he must sound like a fool. Tom and Gwen glanced at each other bemusedly. If only poor Harry knew the truth, they both seemed to be thinking.

"Maybe in a past life."

* * *

Ok, that's the end, my dear readers! I want to thank each and every one of you for reading, especially those of you who took the time to review. It's been a great ride, and I'm sad to be done with Tom and Gwen. They're just such a part of me that I don't know what I'll do now that their story is over. But! Never fear, I have more stories coming. The next story I'm working on is called "Blind" and it'll involve the greatest superhero of all time, and my personal favorite, Superman. It'll be as epic and as long as "Pitiful Creature of Darkness", so bear with me as I work out the kinks in it. I want to make it as perfect as possible, so I won't be posting it for a while. However, I have another story starring Brandon Routh (Superman). It's called "Hurt", and it's a sequel to his amazing short film, _Denial_. If you live in the US and haven't seen it, go to iTunes right now and download it. PM me if you want the link to the story; I can't post it here at because there's no section for short films.

Much love,

Lady G.


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